Vance Thompson

  • Linen Bands

    I weep those dead lips, white and dry,
    On which no kisses lie,
    Those eyes deserted of desire,
    And love’s soft fire.

    I weep the folded feet and hands,
    Held fast in linen bands;
    Still heart, cold breasts,—for them my dole:
    God hath the soul...

  • Symbols

    Green grew the reeds and pale they were,
    And all the sunless grass was gray;
    The sluggish coils of marsh-water
    Dripped thickly over root and stone;
    In the deep woods there was no day,
    No day within them, shine or sun,—
    Only the night alway.

    ...