Poems

Chapter 36: VILLA PAULINE

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About This Book

A lyrical collection of short poems grouped by creative periods, ranging from intimate sketches of domestic and childhood moments to meditations on nature, the sea, love, loss, and memory. Many pieces blend concise, imagistic language with prose-like rhythms, alternating playful child verses and delicate elegies, and often evoke sensory detail—light, wind, flowers, and seaside landscapes—to explore fleeting moods and inward reflection. Several poems record quiet domestic scenes and grieving recollections, while others experiment with voice and form, producing both whimsical and mournful tones. The result is an intimate, varied sequence that emphasizes emotion, perception, and the small gestures that shape inner life.

VILLA PAULINE

But, ah! before he came
You were only a name:
Four little rooms and a cupboard
Without a bone,
And I was alone!
Now with your windows wide
Everything from outside
Of sun and flower and loveliness
Comes in to hide,
To play, to laugh on the stairs,
To catch unawares
Our childish happiness,
And to glide
Through the four little rooms on tip-toe
With lifted finger,
Pretending we shall not know
When the shutters are shut
That they still linger
Long, long after.
Lying close in the dark
He says to me: “Hark,
Isn’t that laughter?”

1916.