Now the Enchanting
Now the enchanting night arrives
And beckons us to catch the drips,
For there is honey in her eyes
And madness lurks about her lips.
Her breast it is a downy lawn
Where unicorns and princes play,
And at her hip there hangs a sword
That spears the sun and kills the day.
Welcome the night that withered me
And from my promise stole the bloom,
For in her hands were starry flowers,
And at her word I blasted gloom.
No more a nymph in wreaths I lie,
Sobbing upon a windswept shore;
For through the open moon I fly
Before the dawn, beyond Death's door.
© Morag Emmerson, 1980.
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