Silver and Roses, Henna and Myrrh

To a Spellbinder

I never soared the skies on magic rug

Imagined in the ecstatic, heady fumes,

I never, quaffing Moon-begotten drug,

Did float through fabled, jewel-bedizened rooms,

I never, with a witch’s brew entranced,

Held council with bright Pharaohs and dark Tsars,

I never on Creation’s crossroads danced

In transport charmed, forgathering with stars,

I never drew a draught of wizard’s balm

That taught mine ears the language of the Sun,

I never did a haggard tempest calm,

Empowered by potions rich in mystic stun,

But that I might the marvel ill compare

Against the spell and wonder of my fair.

Friday, February 7, 1969

Sun and Moon, Heaven and Earth