Silver and Roses, Henna and Myrrh

 

 

To My Lady Swan

 

Amid a bosk of thickest, vastest reach,

Impervious to gonfalon and sword,

A silvern pond with rushes on its beach

Lies nestled in the paddock of the Lord.

A hut of reeds and redolent bamboo

Stands sweet beside the rushes and the pond,

And there the goddess of our love does coo

Behests enforced with her benignant wand.

And thou and I do sail the fair lagoon,

A pair of swans who trumpet lovely songs

And wonder at the riddle of our rune

And at the queen to whom our love belongs

Our downy glory all the world does stun,

To ev’ry quarter mirrored by the Sun.

 

 

                        Friday, January 31, 1969

 

Image: http://www.newhopearts.com/images/708_swanstwoold.jpg