by Shaemas O'Sheel (1886 - 1954)
The lover scorns all women but his lady
Language: English
Were all the women of the world to come And droop their languorous hair about my heart, They could not hold it in those nets so fine, And pleading with lips lyrical or dumb, Pleading with excess of all amorous art, They could not win the kisses that are thine. If Helen came, her white limbs hung with gold, And Deirdre with dim visionary eyes, And Grania, flame-haired, fiery with command; If Hero came—reluctant once of old— And she who all too long with Romeo lies, And she who led Dante heavenward by the hand, They could not make me fain of their fain lips Nor lure me to the languor of warm breasts With any soft compulsion of white arms, And delicate dim touch of finger tips And smouldering eyes where passion leaps and rests Would leave me cold and lose the name of charms. Nay, Solomon’s Love and Anthony’s Desire, Heloise and frail Francesca, and their queen Immortal Aphrodite, whom I praise, Naked before me could not touch with fire The calm pulse of my blood, for I have seen Beauty within thy beauty for all days.
Authorship:
- by Shaemas O'Sheel (1886 - 1954), appears in Jealous of Dead Leaves [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Timothy Hoekman , "The lover scorns all women but his lady", 2013, published 2016 [ baritone and piano ], from She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not, no. 3 [sung text not yet checked]
Researcher for this page: Malcolm Wren [Guest Editor]
This text was added to the website: 2020-08-29
Line count: 24
Word count: 189