MIDSUMMER NIGHT
Pretty-pale in summer sheaves
Emptiness of lonely hearts
The desecration of the hour
I could not tell of how it turned
Without accounting for the best of times!
Pale honour of the morning light
It leaves its spell on younger seekers
Older men forget they knew
The way was won when lies were true�
Let�s follow after
This bright-corners maiden
Her allegiance
Is not courting-laughter
Let us follow
This bright-corner�s master
Exchanging ballast
For an air-borne sail!
Diedre isn�t Astor�s tail:
The star is stolen from its mother�s bed;
Measure for measure and limn from limn
Dusk writes on morning�s paltry faith!
5/27/05
Poetry 2006
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