Vast wings above the lambent waters brood
Of sullen day.
A waste of waters ruthlessly
Sways and uplifts its weedy mane
Where brooding day stares down upon the sea
In dull disdain.
Uplift and sway, O golden vine,
Your clustered fruits to love’s full flood,
Lambent and vast and ruthless as is thine
Incertitude!
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I hear an army charging upon the land,
Arrogant, in black armour, behind them stand,Disdaining the reins, with fluttering whips, the charioteers.They cry unto the night their battle-name:I moan in sleep when I hear afar their whirling laughter.They cleave the gloom of dreams, a blinding flame,Clanging, clanging upon the heart as upon an anvil.They come shaking in triumph their long, green hair:They come…
Gaunt in gloom,
Enshrouded, wave.Ghostfires from heaven’s far verges faint illume,Arches on soaring arches,Night’s sindark nave.Seraphim,The lost hosts awakenTo service tillIn moonless gloom each lapses muted, dim,Raised when she has and shakenHer thurible.And long and loud,To night’s nave upsoaring,A starknell tollsAs the bleak incense surges, cloud on cloud,Voidward from the adoringWaste of souls.
Villanelle Of The Temptress
Are you not weary of ardent ways,Lure of the fallen seraphim?Tell no more of enchanted days.Your eyes have set man’s heart ablazeAnd you have had your will of him.Are you not weary of ardent ways?Above the flame the smoke of praiseGoes up from ocean rim to rim.Tell no more of enchanted days.Our broken cries and…
Are you not weary of ardent ways,
Tell no more of enchanted days.Your eyes have set man’s heart ablazeAnd you have had your will of him.Are you not weary of ardent ways?Above the flame the smoke of praiseGoes up from ocean rim to rim.Tell no more of enchanted days.Our broken cries and mournful laysRise in one eucharistic hymn.Are you not weary of…
Because your voice was at my side
Because within my hand I heldYour hand again.There is no word nor any signCan make amend — –He is a stranger to me nowWho was my friend.
My dove, my beautiful one,
The night-dew liesUpon my lips and eyes.The odorous winds are weavingA music of sighs:Arise, arise,My dove, my beautiful one!I wait by the cedar tree,My sister, my love,White breast of the dove,My breast shall be your bed.The pale dew liesLike a veil on my head.My fair one, my fair dove,Arise, arise!