Thursday, May 17, 2018

of a poem / written elsewhere

Ah, I have wandered with unwearied feet,
All the long sweetness of an April day,
Lulled with cool murmurs and the drowsy beat
Of partridge wings in secret thickets gray,
The marriage hymns of all the birds at play,
The faces of sweet flowers, and easeful dreams
Beside slow reaches of frog-haunted dreams;

from "April" by Archibald Lampman
in "The Poems of Archibald Lampman (including At the Long Sault)" 

I have found a whisper
across a single sheet
of a poem 
written elsewhere
very plain and neat

I have followed singing
all the bright long life
to a cavern in the distance
where there was only night

now the whisper I was following
tells me it's time to go
I pass through the entry way of silence
to what I do not know

when you are seeking music
and all that mumbles speaks
trust that the end is darkness
where fear and hatred reeks

and so on the journey there
pace yourself to learn
the lessons of a life
and then all these pages burn

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