Poems by André Spire

O BELLS, you suffer not your gods to die;
You draw us by our hearts into your churches. ...

THE SERVANT-GIRL'S SONG DUSTER, dust away, my friend,
Never will your dusting end. I...

SHE climbed the mountain;
And, naked,
Vaunting her body which he had refused,
She said:
...

IT was not you I was waiting for,
Always.
It was not you that I saw,
In the dreams of my boy...

THEY pity me.
"Look at him, see,
Taking his walking-stick, and going out. So lonely.
He fle...

The hair is a nudity. --THE TALMUD. YOU said to me: But I will be your comrade;
And visit y...

NOW hand in hand, you little maidens, walk.
Pass in the shadow of the crumbling wall.
Arch yo...

YOU, you have given me my noblest pleasures,
How many times my lips have kissed you, when
I ...