Although thy hand and faith, and good works too,
Have seal'd thy love which nothing should undo,
Yea though thou fall back, that apostasy
Confirm thy love; yet much, much I fear thee.
Women are like the Arts, forc'd unto none,
Open to'all searchers, unpriz'd, if unknown.
If I have caught a bird, and let him fly,
Another fouler using these means, as I,
May catch the same bird; and, as these things be,
Women are made for men, not him, nor me.
......
In the outskirts of the village
On the river's winding shores
Stand the Occidental plane-trees,
Stand the ancient sycamores.
One long century hath been numbered,
And another half-way told
Since the rustic Irish gleeman
Broke for them the virgin mould.
......
Love is the sunlight of the soul,
That, shining on the silken-tressèd head
Of her we love, around it seems to shed
A golden angel-aureole.
And all her ways seem sweeter ways
Than those of other women in that light:
She has no portion with the pallid night,
But is a part of all fair days.
......
I
Lady and Queen and Mystery manifold
And very Regent of the untroubled sky,
Whom in a dream St. Hilda did behold
And heard a woodland music passing by:
You shall receive me when the clouds are high
With evening and the sheep attain the fold.
This is the faith that I have held and hold,
And this is that in which I mean to die.
......
It was explained to me
the other day, that music
holds every emotion a human
heart can feel.
It transcribes over used words
that have lost their depth.
I could tell you I am filled
with joy, but can you comprehend
the spilling out of my heart?
The excitement my body can
......
Rain is drizzling in slanting form
And pelting my roof gently.
Outside, it’s cold and dark, the stars hiding
Behind blindfolded, piddling clouds.
Music flows through my brain.
My ears are full.
Every breath I take resides on pluvial melody,
Charging my pulses towards the mirth of
Eloquent stanzas.
God, how on earth can I thank you enough
......
Four shadows on a Liverpool street,
not yet legends,
just boys with callused fingers
and hearts tuned to something
the world hadn't heard yet.
A chord struck,
and the silence of the age shattered.
Not with noise,
but with a new kind of light.
......
Since the elderly king greatly loved music, his court esteemed it, too;
As sun and moon smile on myriad colors, during the butterfly revue.
The king was well loved and jolly, with the queen, always by his side.
He ruled with caring. Like rainbow hued peaks, where indifference died.
His glorious reign had been lengthy, and the vast kingdom prospered;
Like the kingdom of regal, red lilies, blooming regularly as clockwork.
Fabled, flighty, fall days brought friends, on the spur of rare moment,
......
Rain is drizzling in slanting form,
Pelting my thatched roof gently.
Every globule of raindrop shines
With the power of water.
Outside, it’s cold, grey and hopefully dark,
The stars hiding behind blindfolded and
Piddling clouds, making love smoothly.
The cosmos, fatter, and at the same time, leaner,
Holds a confraternal festival of rain
That runs from seasons to ancestries.
......
Fingers dance on ivory roads,
a melody in midnight codes.
He plays what no one dares to say,
and makes the silence drift away.
A glass half full,a heart half gone-
he tells our stories,note by note,
then fades into the final song,
the one that keeps us all afloat.