Poem II, Song of a Field at Night

Of The City Beautiful, She the long-betrothed to One All-Loved Man – I cannot speak in measure. Her peace is all my pleasure. Lumed in the final solar span I saw her last, in countless tiny jewels clothed. They were the waterdrops she lies amid, for here, within an earthcloud, that man hid her, The Beautiful, his treasure. I think, and shudder, once a day (since the loved man came and went) of dragons, and that six-legged Serpent who swore ago to shred her roasted flesh. How her spires tremble,… Read more Poem II, Song of a Field at Night →