I. The lady Dawn slips off her dress, And there are little bells upon the trees And anklets on the feet Of every girl beneath the red rose trees; And there are knights with swords of mistletoe, Bearing the sigil of Maiden and Child Upon their lunate shields. The lady Dawn slips off her dress, While elk whose herds do race across the moon Lay down the antlers of their speech Outside the Chapel of the Stone. The lady Dawn slips off her dress, And some old man that lives in peace Upon Strawberry Hill does play at chess With Helen, mother of the West. II. This temporary beauty has no ruth, And all the desperate clarity of that poured silk Which sailors name the sea, which moves Beneath a world that’s terpsichorean and sweet, Where sunlight steals a kiss From the cloud-feathered swan That is the dreaming moon; one could See in a moment how a Chinese sage might come To living in a hermitage alone By some white tairn, with naught But a grey bowl of sand and a tall tree With sour pomegranates fraught. Men are, unless they trade their souls like Esau for a stew, Like horses that must chafe unless they have Great snowy steppes to run; And all the desperate clarity of that poured silk Could lap a thousand shores and yet be one; We know that most our organs are unshaped, But eft in fire we shall bathe and spread these arms To catch a wind that’s bred beyond the stars, And dance with dancers that have seen the deeps Where God has hidden for a time Many a king that sleeps.
I really enjoyed this piece. The delicate imagery is just absolutely enchanting.
Thank you kindly