Tuesday, November 22, 2016

Have Chains of Sadness Bound You, Second Variation

[after John Dowland]

have chains of sadness bound you;
ropes of tears?
through the gloom I see

these dismal jeweled years
festooning ancient madrigals or rather,
like the sun, all's climbed above

the dense, deep graphite
grey of thunderheads,
a gold at a far remove, ineffectual-

as a Storybook
whose pages you grow loath to turn.

Beclouded is that picture,
midnight's noon
the one I have in mind

and no shepherds piping

in a greening meadow's clime
can I infer:
above, below, on either side

I see strange Melancholy 
on a throne of ice,
the vain assays of knights

up the glassine hill,

the silver apples rolling down,
like tears, like tears
in the stymied after tones

of all our dears
consigned to the workhouse of the shrill.
like a ship that won't be turned,

the ice bound Will.

mary angela douglas 27 september 2016 rev. 22 november 2016