Explore "Confession" by Hervey Allen on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I think, by God! It is no lie; / I shall go dreaming till I die!
There is no love so real to me / As the cold passion of the sea.
There is no little, wind-swept town / By harbors where the roads go down, / Or headland gray that sits and sips / The cup of ocean at its lips, / And gazes at the far-off ships -- / Or tree or house or friend so real / As visions and the dreams I feel.
No -- not the windy, vaultless arch / Where all the white stars flame and march, / Nor water at the river fords / Like horses mad among the swords, / Or oaks that lean from winter storms; / These only give my vision forms.
Away! White hands, I will not take!
And kissing mouths that cry, "Awake!"
For you I have no gramercy; / So leave me by my lotus tree, / To dream and gaze into the sky / Where red suns wither up and die, / I know! I know! I do not lie!
I shall go dreaming till I die!