English poem
To Felix Feneon
by John Gray (1839–1915)
Men, women, call thee so or so; I do not know. Thou hast no name For me, but in my heart aflame
Burns tireless, neath a silver vine. And round entwine Its purple girth All things of fragrance and of worth.
Thou shout! thou burst of light! thou throb Of pain! thou sob! Thou like a bar Of some sonata, heard from far
Through blue-hue'd veils! When in these wise, To my soul's eyes, Thy shape appears, My aching hands are full of tears.