Verse fragments
occasioned lyric
The Old Enduring Chill
Sun in earlier again. Earlier and earlier, falling Victim to a happy daze Or a melancholy droop 'Midst men retiring also Dusking, yet no less lively, The scene punctuated Through the relentless hum Of wheels, by the song Of birds singing the setting. In between now, times and spaces, Sunny day and silent night. Neither, and both, breathing Together and apart, Westering, Darkening, blowing chill. The return of something Animating in its onset, spirating, Enlivening, even as it joins The death of light, the loss Of the glowing bloom. No less glory in the ringing Of such a change; glory Into glory transformed, form To form, spirit breathing The chill tidings to tinging ears. Light to light, light Of some other music, pitch And timbre; Sun's theme Retires early, plays less Yet leads all the same. 'Water coming, doubtless.' Diluvian flushing of old Filth and dross from earth's face The sunlight after, beaming. 'Tomorrow, the bow in the clouds.' Rushing wind now. Sun dying, Exploding, into a sea of fire Fire bathing everything, all All aglow with his brazen theme, Cadences interharmonising. Enkindling Spirit, breathing Chills, chills embracing Me body and soul, charging Every nerve with his electricity, Ringing, singing the change.
Raindrop Prelude
The stillness marked and formed by breath Breath of gentle wind, carrying the pulse The pitter-pat, the measured intervals The softly singing, freshly beaming joy Alighting upon the weary hoary world.
St Augustine’s Prayer
Late, late have I loved Thee O Wisdom ever ancient, ever true Yet ever, ever dost Thou see me Binding near mine errant heart anew. The words of my mouth fail me Sounds uttered, vainly grasping The dim-recalled singing, sweetly Leading these dead lungs, rasping. Ugliness, when 'against His beauty viewed Ugliness extreme, disobedient, accurst. Cast off, forlorn, Thy great glory rued, Wishing to love but feebly, Thou that loved me first. The Words of Thy mouth fill me, Filling mine, so used to filthy speech Breath of Thy healthful Ghost truly O'er body and soul, re-membering each.
hiraeth (the long defeat)
Born too late to know the music, The song, remembered, rich and full of years. Too late to see the ancient memory Play undaunted, wafting sweetly to our ears. Born too late to know the smock unstained, The rocks bathed not in blood, but light Of Westering golden sun, too late to know Her joyful song without her present plight. Longing seizes me, as I walk through country Listening for something, I know not what. Which I remember not, save a whisper, deep In the soul, heard on the breeze, beneath cognition. Impossible now to recognise her as she was Yet she resembles it, all the same, and knows From whence came her profound misery My people I fear she counts among her foes. And how might her Father, on high, feel Knowing the deeds of His sons, charged With the care and love of their sister, Country, who, exploiting her, fortunes enlarged?
The Eye of the Beheld
A small moment's passing Brief, yet eternitudinous, Which carried her eye Lingering, sometime, long, Yet brief, there and gone. The one passing, in passing Made present, in passing Passing through, passing Like, yet unlike the noise And rush of all else surrounding. When the noise of the world Passes by, its grey and black Shapes rumbling on, making Their awkward way, nothing Of the eternal ever there present. Some things, in passing, make Present the mystery, eternal, Of there-ness, sounding A theme, singing, sound beheld, Sonorous to my eye. The motion of her eye in meeting Mine, therein a randomness Such as could be naught but order, Music: order forgetting itself, Ordered by spiritual themes. The eye, her eye, in which I Beheld and in which Was beheld, a moment Playing itself again, over and over Before the eye of my memory. Contained within it multitude, Deep pools of memory, knowing Such as none may know Having never seen, felt, been. Wisdom gazing from the depths. Flowers in fresh vitality, hopeful Eyes to eyes meeting, hers deep With understanding, feeling, Beyond her likely tale of years, and mine Beholding the waters over the face of the deep. The eyes meeting, and there Revealing inward stature, beauty Wisdom, borne of hearing, feeling Knowing much, all contained In a strangers' meeting, beheld beholding.
Lingering on a Verse of John Donne
The path is trodden oft The words familiar When music, singing soft Circles in the cool, sweetly air. The verse, with wisdom, speaks Words the same, voice new, Each time, when the music peaks Or troughs, novel, rings true. "Fire of passion, sighs of air" Theme with many voices. "Water of tears, earthy sad despair" Again, whatever, how good, my choices. The verse "about" Dissolution Read again, speaks again another, And again another key, solution, To think the thing, then, as other. "She is dead, and all which die To their first elements resolve" Elements to elements, now ally Now divorce, in fractal shapes revolve.
