[on the painting by John Singer Sargent]
we hold the lanterns in our gaze and they shall not go out
the lily, the rose, the lily rose shadows their carnation
coolnesses, the children will not ravel
the edge of this twilight ever, softly they blossom
in the borders near the clumps of the flowers familiar to them
and the lanterns sway in the painting as if it were a real garden
and only slightly it is, the wind of the carnation, the lily,
the rosied lilies partake of Dream and dreaming
the light the light diminishing only lightly
we hold within our hearts within, within
equidistant from firefly as from star
there is nothing
like coloured paper lanterns swaying in the
purple, this cannot fade the purple shadows by
the painting kept alive
the lights go out or
the lanterns stir in the evening breeze when we depart
the carnation breeze be remembered, the beautiful the beautiful
weaving of lily and rose all before and after
shining, the weeping afterglow, the childish laughter
glow worm gloss and
mysterious mosses,
the self-same lanterns in our gaze
the night that will never fade
the distant song forever distant
time and the flowers at a standstill
the children, murmuring
mary angela douglas 19 february 2015 rev.11 june 2015; 23 january 2018; 16 november 2023
No comments:
Post a Comment