Coral and clear emerald,
And amber from the sea,
Lilac-coloured amethyst,
Chalcedony;
The lovely Spirit of Air
Floats on a cloud and doth ride,
Clad in the beauties of earth
Like a bride.
So doth she haunt me; and words
Tell but a tithe of the tale.
Sings all the sweetness of Spring
Even the nightengale?
Nay, but with echoes she cries
Of the valley of love;
Dews on the thorns at her feet,
And darkness above.
Now, something magical if not mystical, vividly bittersweet and, to me, evocative of worlds long-lost that reside now only in certain great works of literature. Also from de la Mare, also circa 1921.
And amber from the sea,
Lilac-coloured amethyst,
Chalcedony;
The lovely Spirit of Air
Floats on a cloud and doth ride,
Clad in the beauties of earth
Like a bride.
So doth she haunt me; and words
Tell but a tithe of the tale.
Sings all the sweetness of Spring
Even the nightengale?
Nay, but with echoes she cries
Of the valley of love;
Dews on the thorns at her feet,
And darkness above.
Now, something magical if not mystical, vividly bittersweet and, to me, evocative of worlds long-lost that reside now only in certain great works of literature. Also from de la Mare, also circa 1921.
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