WJ:New Love and Old

"When the flush of a new-born sun fell first on Eden's green and gold,
Our father Adam sat under the Tree and scratched with a stick in the mould;
And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart,
Till the Devil whispered behind the leaves, "It's pretty, but is it Art?"

from Rudyard Kipling's The Conundrum of the Workshops

Poetry: Poems of Acclaim

New Love and Old

In my heart the old love
   Struggled with the new;
It was ghostly waking
   All night through.

Dear things, kind things,
   That my old love said,
Ranged themselves reproachfully
   Round my bed.

But I could not heed them,
   For I seemed to see
The eyes of my new love
   Fixed on me.

Old love, old love,
   How can I be true?
Shall I be faithless to myself
   Or to you?

Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)

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