Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SING, MY POET, by HARRY MCGUIRE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SING, MY POET, by                    
First Line: And she said, 'my poet, sing to me'
Last Line: In the dusk-light of her eyes.
Subject(s): Love; Poetry & Poets


And she said, "My poet, sing to me --
Sing of the dimmed heights that only your eyes see,
And of the rains of Hindustan
That never wept till your departure.
Sing of the Chinese musk, and incensed streets,
The cries of beggars on the wharves;
Sing high, and low, around, and over too,
Sing of the world outside of worlds
And of the world where that world grew."

The muse lay in my chamber with me then,
So came a song,
Long, long, and low . . .
I spun the web of fantasy from glow-worm eyes,
And pierced the clotting blood in which the sunset dies.
I drew the clouds into a long, thin line,
And therewith bound the recrudescent heavens in a ball
For my love's fingers
In their play.
I snatched the sunlight from the sun
And spread it on the sea,
That my divine love's beauty
Mirrored there,
Might witness all the puissance
That dwells in me.

The flagellating cat-tails of a marsh
Were plucked by song,
And woven into melodies as soft and still
As the melancholy song of thrushes
Murmuring from the hill.
Then from the crash of thunder and the flash of light
I forged an azure crown
Set with the jewels of heaven, for my love's dear head,
And, lest her velvet brow should chafe
With all its weight,
I lined its starry splendor
With a queen bee's down.

But with perturbed eyes she said again,
"My poet, sing to me."
Then I knew well that though in poesy
I bind eternity,
A bauble at her wrist,
Her woman's vanity would be unmatched,
And still the lustre of her eyes would fret.
For woman would not have the poet tell
Of all the splendor of the skies,
Unless he find that splendor
In the dusk-light of her eyes.





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