Delay

The radiance of the star that leans on me
Was shining years ago. The light that now
Glitters up there my eyes may never see,
And so the time lag teases me with how

Love that loves now may not reach me until
Its first desire is spent. The star's impulse
Must wait for eyes to claim it beautiful
And love arrived may find us somewhere else.

Elizabeth Jennings

Elizabeth Jennings was an English poet known for her lyric poetry and precision. She was part of the Movement, a group of British poets in the mid-20th century who championed a return to traditional verse forms and a clear, accessible style. Her work often explored themes of love, religion, and mental illness. Jennings' poetry was deeply personal and introspective, earning her both critical acclaim and a devoted readership. She also worked as a librarian and editor during her career.

Elizabeth Jennings

In A Garden

Elizabeth Jennings, Simple Poetry

Absence

Elizabeth Jennings, Simple Poetry

A Performance Of Henry V At Stratford-Upon-Avon

Elizabeth Jennings, Simple Poetry

English

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Spring Star.

    I.


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Strangely alive it seems,
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Other Stars.

The night is dark, and yet it is not quite:
Those stars are hid that other orbs may shine;
Twin stars, whose rays illuminate the night,
And cheer her gloom, but only deepen mine;
For these fair stars are not what they do seem,
But vanish'd eyes remember'd in a dream.

The night is dark, and yet it brings no rest;
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Starlight

O beautiful Stars, when you see me go
    Hither and thither, in search of love,
Do you think me faithless, who gleam and glow
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    O Stars, so golden, it is not so.

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Flowers And Stars.

"Beloved! thou'rt gazing with thoughtful look
    On those flowers of brilliant hue,
Blushing in spring tide freshness and bloom,
    Glittering with diamond dew:
What dost thou read in each chalice fair,
    And what does each blossom say?
Do they not tell thee, my peerless one,
    Thou'rt lovelier far than they?"

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Impatience.

        How can I wait until you come to me?
    The once fleet mornings linger by the way,
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        How can I wait? Of old, the rapid hours
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        How can I wait? The nights alone are kind;
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From The Sea

All beauty calls you to me, and you seem,
Past twice a thousand miles of shifting sea,
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I feel your spirit and I close my eyes,
Knowing the bright hair blowing in the sun,
The eager whisper and the searching eyes.

Listen, I love you. Do not turn your face
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The blue unbroken circle of the sea.
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