CONFESSION.
I think, my God! It is no lie; I shall go dreaming till I die! There is no love so real to me As the cold passion of the sea. There is no little, wind-swept town By harbors where the roads go down, Or headlands gray that sits and sips The cup of ocean at its lips, And gazes at the far-off ships— > Or tree or house or friend so real As visions and the dreams I feel. No —not the windy, vaultless arch "Where all the white stars flame and march, Nor water at the river fords Like horses mad among the swords, Or oaks that lean from winter storms; These only give my vision forms. Away, white hands, I will not take! And kissing mouths that cry, "Awake!'' ' For you I have no gramercy; So leave me by my lotus tree, To dream and gaze into the sky Where red suns wither up and die, I know! I know! Ido not lie I must go dreaming till I die. - Hervey Allen, in Current Opinion.
Permanent link to this item
Hononga pūmau ki tēnei tūemi
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/NZT19210818.2.15
Bibliographic details
Ngā taipitopito pukapuka
New Zealand Tablet, 18 August 1921, Page 11
Word count
Tapeke kupu
177CONFESSION. New Zealand Tablet, 18 August 1921, Page 11
Using this item
Te whakamahi i tēnei tūemi
See our copyright guide for information on how you may use this title.
Log in