Art - 2
In supplication my stead is the darkened hour
Trod in the sanguine chill and lonely gloom of night
Only to chance upon the open moon
Free in all her exultant glory
Yet not for me to swoon at her solicitude
For I am not entranced by innocence nor entreaty
Callous reckoning is my sweet deserts — this duplicitous soul
Even when enveloped in her enduring web
’Tis overcome — I shan’t fall by folly nor gay abandon
Nor be deceived even by winter
Unsparingly; my dreams were abandoned long ago
Never to be enticed nor forestalled by such reckonings
Nor indulged upon, even by the platitudes sprung from the Nightingale’s song
Such far off wants I do not beseech upon myself — nor by free abandonment
Yet by this darkened hour I recall nature’s soft wants
Her shining glory has moved over me — and shifts across the heavens still
Her temperamental change
I have felt the mistletoe rage
The windswept plains
Where is thy gentle wonting
Am I to forewarn
Or have the ages befallen me
No longer touched by sweet surrender
Nor lured by my temptress, her mystery and shining glory
Does her nature endure or is it forever changed
As she strays
Resigned only by the dawn’s false promise
Timidity — or a spell resisted
And the light of yet another dying day
