The Miracle A crescent waxing hangs aloft As she reclines on crystal stones, While all about, the night sleeps soft. Her dewy voice of silken tones Enlightens midnight with sweet song. She lights her lamp, reveals white bones Strewn all the rocky beach along. Her tail a-glisten with gold fire, The night is still, and naught is wrong. A buzzing shrill, of fierce desire, Bids singing halt, assaults her ears, And bound towards its gilded pyre A hairy moth to sight appears. Alarmed, the sea-girl with coal eyes That water crystal with kind tears Assays to shoo the moth that flies, Yet fails to shield it from bright jaws; Love’s light obtained, the insect dies. About the isle there gape the maws Of twice five hundred open caves, And one more blazoned with the laws That guide unto the life that saves. The sea-girl, she of framed sight, To these she cries, and ‘cross the waves That roll and shimmer, pale with light: “Oh! Sisters dear with voices sweet That sing but e’er to give delight, My quiet flame sends Moth to meet The dreaded death-god far off south. My heavy heart in pain does beat.” Now each approaches her cave’s mouth, With glist’ning eyes a thousand strong. With mending end that tends to growth, Each hearkens to her sister’s song: “Why weepest thou, oh sister pure, Art thou grown wise to call aught wrong That passeth here upon this shore? Growth bursts within the germ of Time, Thine insect knocks at heaven’s door, And in that passing there’s no crime. All things befallen flow in phase, Now low, now yet begun to climb, And thy harsh judgment’s clouded haze.” Now myriad chorus grand retires, Rests once again in caves of days. Queen moon in fullness sheds white fires, The sea-girl curled in anguish still, Preyed on by knotted, sharp desires That with great fangs let bind their will. But look! On the horizon’s lip, Like towers perched upon a hill, Appears a distant sailing ship. She dares to raise, lets fly a peal, A song of nectar, merest sip Of which would force the Devil feel Once more the fleetness of light grace. The captain charmed, he turns the wheel And makes toward the rocky place. The waves they churn and hiss and coil Like fluid serpents given chase; Soot stormclouds summoned, scatter, boil, The sea and sky gone mad with glee, While sea-girl loving sings on soil. The winds, harsh-turning, warp the sea, The ship a-quiver bow to stern. The masts do quake, ship’s lamp comes free, The stricken vessel ‘gins to burn, And with the ship so crowned with fire, The crippled boat, it cannot turn. With buckets, hoses, measures dire, Th’attempt is made to quench it out; Like legions driven into mire The bold attempt becomes a rout. The sea-girl perched upon the stones Can hear the crew in terror shout, And scorched in flame some wounded groans; Her heart with pity full beset, Her sweet breath issues sighs and moans. With heaving arms she’s primed to let Herself leave shore for violent waves; Her meaning, although composite Is like the tender one that saves. But that she spies beside her hand The specter, queen of thousand graves, That weaves a silken, snaring strand, And paralyzed will leave her prey As sure as sea will meet the land. The shaken sea-girl, dimlit gray, She raise her limb with mind to crush. But that the waned moon goddess say With sacred whisper, divine hush: “Oh purest heart with golden hood, Taint not thyself by harming such As this night shade with fangs of blood; Tonight thou learn’st the hidden means That shoots from shadows greater good To screens obscure behind the scenes.” Now silent begins rain to fall, And goddess fair to earth she leans. She sets the shade ‘pon mizzen tall; And while the rain of autumn leaves The fire spends, black spider crawls, New sails of finest silk she weaves. The goddess to her home is off, The vessel ‘gain to course it cleaves. A crescent waning hangs aloft As she beholds the turn of time, While all about, the night sleeps soft. ‘Tis but a tale, ‘tis but a rhyme.
Posted on: Sun, 10 Aug 2014 23:29:04 +0000
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