by: Donald Evans (1884-1921)
- T is not
that I love thee any less,
- Which holds me back when I might so close be:
- Thy lips have opened, calling hungrily,
- And thy eyes fill with questioning distress.
- I stand away but to once more confess
- How my whole soul throbs with its pride in thee,--
- Still gaze I at my fortune wonderingly,
- For thou art near the stars in perfectness!
- O keen clean limbs! O little sweet fleet feet!
- O bright white thighs that are love's resting-place!
- O singing curves that make thy body's line!
- When and where was it first we two did meet?
- And how have I deserved of life this grace,
- Possession of thy womanhood divine?
POEMS BY DONALD EVANS
"Sonnet Eternal" is reprinted
from Discords. Donald Evans. Philadelphia: Brown Brothers,