John William Godward, When the Heart is Young (1902)
When the Heart is Young, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
When the heart is young it controls the mind.
Love, the greatest reason to be alive.
It’s love that shows the way, even though blind,
It provides needed power to survive.
New eager feeling can be found inside,
As the bee in spring seeking a flower,
Here and there, everywhere, busy it flied,
Sampling but yet not filling its desire.
Only time can provide a love so true.
Will be greater than a carnal pleasure.
Gently quiets the pain that made you blue,
With a healing touch that will reassure.
The young at heart are easily confused,
Not always sure the heart will be unbruised.
John William Godward, Mischief and Repose (1895)
Mischief and Repose, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Dreams of love should be a gift given all.
For me there is none for whom my heart burns.
Be assured for love my heart truly yearns.
The joy for this heart to be in his thrall,
Is better than loneliness to install.
My friend, she dreams deeply without concerns,
Being with her lov’r on many sojourns.
Oh! It is my pleasure her dreams to stall.
What sort of friend awakes me from a dream?
Why do you idle than seek a lover?
Being in love is not what it may seem.
It cannot be gained being a fawner,
Nor easily got by some wishful scheme.
Love is two hearts giving to each other.
John William Godward, Summer Flowers (1903)
Summer Flowers, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
You are like this summer flower, so ripe,
Having selected you from the many,
Thinking you could to be my desired type.
Holding you close to my heart with much glee.
As any cut flower you too wilted.
Pressed you in a book, as a memory.
Should have known to be a love so stilted,
To be saved you did never made a plea.
The summer is long, I shall not be mourned.
Will search many gardens so well adorned,
Looking for a new you being forewarned,
Avoiding all who are overadorned.
Stopping to smell many flowers so sweet,
Hoping the true you to happily meet.
John William Godward, Muse Erato at Her Lyre (1895)
The Muse, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Erato, name so true, thou art my muse.
Gazing upon thy beauty motivates.
Thy every movement provides many cues,
While words from thy lips so invigorate.
My pen never tires when writing of thee,
Though thou be a far distance from my touch.
Eyes tightly closed I feel thee before me,
The vision I feel of thee is nonesuch.
Over my heart, Oh, the power thou has,
To do whatever be thy desired will,
As I am helpless captured by thy snares.
Of this shall write ‘til my body is still.
Why is it then that I must write so free?
So the future knows of my love for thee.