Sunday 20 January 2008

Mornings with Poe.

Up for the dawn with coffee in hand, and a blanket for two, for the sunrise this morning felt colder than most. And inspiration came to me in the form of a fragment of old poem that I know, succinctly, by heart.

    
    But Psyche, uplifting her finger
    Said Sadly this star I mistrust
    Her pallor I strangely mistrust
    Oh, hasten! Oh, let us not linger!
    Oh, fly, let us fly, for we must
    In terror she spoke letting sink her Wings
    until they trailed in the dust
    In agony sobbed, letting sink her
    Plumes till they trailed in the dust
    Till they sorrowfully trailed in the dust.

    I replied this is nothing but dreaming
    Let us on by this tremulous light
    Let us bathe in this crystalline light
    It's sybilic splendor is beaming
    With Hope and in Beauty tonight
    See it flickers up the sky through the night!
    Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming
    And be sure it will lead us aright
    We safely may trust to a gleaming
    That cannot but guide us aright
    Since it flickers up to Heaven through the night