- HE island dreams under the dawn
- And great boughs drop tranquillity;
- The peahens dance on a smooth lawn,
- A parrot sways upon a tree,
- Raging at his own image in the enamelled sea.
- Here we will moor our lonely ship
- And wander ever with woven hands,
- Murmuring softly lip to lip,
- Along the grass, along the sands,
- Murmuring how far away are the unquiet lands:
- How we alone of mortals are
- Hid under quiet boughs apart,
- While our love grows an Indian star,
- A meteor of the burning heart,
- One with the tide that gleams, the wings that gleam and dart,
- The heavy boughs, the burnished dove
- That moans and sighs a hundred days:
- How when we die our shades will rove,
- When eve has hushed the feathered ways,
- With vapoury footsole by the water's drowsy blaze.
Swank & Co at Fantasy Faire 2022
2 years ago