The Poetry Corner

Amavimus, Amamus, Amabimus

By Arthur Shearly Cripps

Persephone, Persephone! Still I fancy I can see Thee amid the daffodils. Golden wealth thy basket fills; Golden blossoms at thy breast; Golden hair that shames the West; Golden sunlight round thy head! Ah! the golden years have fled; Thee have reft, and me have left Here alone, thy loss to mourn. Persephone, Persephone! Still I fancy I can see Her, as white and still she lies: Death has woo'd and won his prize. White the blossoms at her breast; White and still her face at rest; White the moonbeams round her head. Ah! the wintry years have fled; Comfort lent and patience sent, And my grief is easier borne. Persephone, Persephone! Still in dreams thou com'st to me; Every night art at my side, Half my bride, and half Death's bride! Golden blossoms at thy breast; Golden hair that shames the West; Golden sunlight circling thee! Half of gold the lone years flee: Night is glad, though day is sad, Till I go where thou art gone.