Sunday, October 06, 2013

And Lavishly, You Turned Your Heel

[to John Keats (1795-1821)]

and lavishly, you turned your heel
into the purpling distance; leaving us,
not quite alone, but with the

nightingale, never before this embroidered;
the heady roses you only just found.
mellow for the instant, tranquil, almost never-
over the top of beauty, impetuously- 
your moon's astonished at the charger
keeping the charge, the

fruitfulness of the marooned
knight coughing up blood
the bright stars fading fast;
the steadfast mariner of faerie

hunted, silver to the last, too early, the
blast of the horn that harries us now,
forlorn, inheriting:

wildly beyond our consolation,
the former self of Beauty-

mary angela douglas 6 october 2013