The quietude of day subdued and hastening of footfall stills
The deep and deeper curtain veils the silhouette of tree and
hills
The lambent lay of dying day rolls like the breaker on a sea
Of silver mist and dreams half-kissed and midnight’s musky
melody
Ah, primeval its madrigal of shushing, rushing, hushing
breeze
Soft, vaporous and languorous and drifting through the slumb’ring
trees
The silver surge of daylight dirge anoints the ethereal caress
Of empathy and agony and memory’s capricious tress
The citadel where angels dwell demands our meek up-lifted
gaze
The azure sweep of noon-tides deep is ebony with star-frothed
glaze
And we are small beneath it all and dearly stagger at the
thought
That God above beholds in love our offerings of jumbled jot
The mystery of what will be touches the trembling vaunt
within
The ether-cast of what is past adorns the walls beneath our
skin
The quietude of day subdued arouses love’s ache in the heart
A gentle awe of nature’s law binding and easing us apart
© Janet Martin
This is very beautifully written, and reminds me, in its rhythm and rhyme scheme, of the old classics. So well done.
ReplyDeleteThank-you Sherry. This is what midnight felt like to me last night.
ReplyDeleteI finally posted the sequel to this poem (at noon). Today the internet flicks on and off. Oh Gentle Day was intended to be posted this morning:)