22, 25, 29 May 1959 - Matters of the heart

Cyril continued his love's laments over the second half of May 1959, going some way to explain his feelings and need to write poetry for Marianne. 

To M M

I write for you alone,
Yet I have need
That you should read
Or I become a stone.

That I may fitly praise
Your beauty here
Is bliss most dear
And I am pledged always.

I know you cannot give
Me anything;
Take what I bring
And read, that I may live.

To you my songs are said
And they will end
When you shall send
Them back to me unread.

22nd May, 1959

Marianne.... did you find my 'cedars' poem? That was a shattering and bruising blow! And I deserved it.

The 'cedars' poem he refers to above, I think is the third poem in this earlier blog post.

Triolet

My heart is a lonely lake
That mystifies and taunts me
And always deeply daunts me
My heart is a lonely lake
Whose surface thrills to beauty
Of interlacing sky and tree
My heart is a lonely lake
Which mirrors all delight in thee

25th May, 1959

I know that you do think that I
Am deep in love with words;
And so I am, yet not alone, for they
Are as the air to mortal frame
Yet must defer to life itself
To which we have no claim.
So with these words which serve
To shew my praise for you
And have no other life for me,
For I have waited all life through
To know and praise your loveliness
Which makes all words mere foolishness.

29th May, 1959