that summons all things into the Delights.
who has read Rilke dearly
expensively has read the night
beyond the face of stars
and all we are or could be
if we but lingered, dreamed
where he had wandered, on our own stair.
let no altering angel close the ear
let no despair shut out
the sound of roses, rains reclaimed, transformed
old legends burnished and the leaves drifting down the
young winds entwined again or
the endless plains of feeling out of sight
but intimated here. but There!
in verse unscrolling like the silver disc
of Time hammered out, immemorially engraved.
the heart cries out from trivialties absolved.
let now no altering angel ban the flight
of the real nightingale
into the jeweled wood
from childhood fears and fragments of fears
shadowing forth great Light.
the whole earth revolving within.
mary angela douglas 1 february 2017