First World War Poetry Digital Archive

Impromptu

IMPROMPTU by WILFRED OWEN

Now, let me feel the feeling of thy hand--- For it is softer than the breasts of girls, And warmer than the pillows of their cheeks, And richer than the fullness of their eyes, And stronger than the ardour of their hearts.

Its shape is subtler than a dancer's limbs; Its skin is coloured like the twilight Alp; And odoured like the pale, night-scented flowers, And fresh with early love, as earth with dawn.

Yield me thy hand a little while, fair love; That I may feel it; and so feel thy life, And kiss across it, as the sea the sand, And love it, with the love of Sun for Earth.

Ah! let me look a long while in thine eyes, For they are deeper than the depths of thought, And clearer than the ether after rain, And suaver than the moving of the moon, And vaster than the void of all desire.

Child, let me fully see and know those eyes! Their fire is like the wrath of shaken rubies; Their shade is like the peaceful forest-heart.

They hold me as the great star holds the less. I see them as the lights beyond this life. They reach me by a sense not found in man, And bless me with a bliss unguessed of God.

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