Your mother? You would know of her? I cannot tell, my child, None understood the heart of her So passionate and wild! Your mother was a vivid spark Of phosphorescent fire, She was the offspring of a dream, A creature of desire. She never took a marriage vow, Or knew a marriage bed, She was paramour to all four winds, (So I have heard it said). Her eyes were eerie beams of light, Her breath a poignant breeze, Her voice an aching, wind-blown flute Echoing through the trees. She was a phantom in the woods When Pan was piping sweet, Intent among the waving reeds For flashes of his feet. Days and nights upon his trail She sped swift as a fawn, Then like a tuft of eider down Came drifting home at dawn. The last I ever saw of her, (I seem to see her yet) She danced before an orange moon -- An ivory silhouette! Four jealous winds stood on the hill, Shrilling a fiery tune, Watched her unwind a silver scarf And hang it on the moon. I don't know where she went, my child, She's been gone ages long, 'Twere best you fetter your young heart, And hush your lips to song! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON CHLORIS WALKING IN THE SNOW by WILLIAM STRODE A PRAIRIE SUNSET by WALT WHITMAN DANAIDES: THE MARRIAGE OF HEAVEN AND EARTH by AESCHYLUS THE LETTER; EDWARD ROWLAND SILL, DIED FEBRUARY 27, 1887 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 31 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH DARTMOOR: SUNSET AT CHAGFORD: RESPONDENT DHMIOURGOS by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |