Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE DAWN-STAR MAIDEN AND THE HONEY BLOSSOM BLUES, by CHARLES R. MURPHY


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE DAWN-STAR MAIDEN AND THE HONEY BLOSSOM BLUES, by                    
First Line: Sing us a dance in jazz-land numbers
Last Line: Dance the honey-blossom blues!
Subject(s): Blues (music); Jazz; Music & Musicians


Sing us a dance in jazz-land numbers
Of the honey-blossom blues!
Dance us a song of the Dawn-Star Girl
When the high noon slumbers
In the meadows of remembrance
And the slow angels twirl;
In the meadows of remembrance
Sing the honey-blossom blues.

The hour of her advancing
Is perilous with light,
For the swiftness of the glancing
Of her silver shoes of night
Has stilled the angels' dancing
To the quietness of trees
In the meadows of remembrance
Where our hearts are honey-bees.
The measure of her dancing
Is the measure of the world;
Cities gather, nations wonder
As her starry feet are twirled;
And the flower of her dancing
Is the blossom of the dawn --
Is a honey-suckle blossom
In the meadows of the dawn.
In the meadows of remembrance
Star-dawn and glinting shoes --
In the meadows of remembrance
Dance the honey-blossom blues!

Oh sun-flower thought,
Oh wind on-rushing,
Beauty half-caught,
Dawn-star flushing.

Oh mesa of our longing where our skyey dreams have fled,
Oh rocks of vanished thunder on horizons of the dead,
Oh child born dreaming of the dances yet to be,
Oh swift thoughts clustered in the godhead of a tree,
Oh tiny rootlets grasping the darkness of the sod,
Oh sheen of blossom-music from the carillons of God!

She is land beyond all rivers,
She is children gone to bed,
She is life that pays forever,
She is wisdom of the dead,
She is dust that is life spoken,
She is rustling of wings,
She is sinking hands of sunset,
She is what the dawn-star sings,
She is homelessness of beauty,
She is sunlight searching graves,
An everlasting wonder
And the peace that each man craves
In the meadows of remembrance
When the honey-humming bees
Rouse the murmur: "Death is worship, death is worship"
In the Quaker hearts of trees.

Oh sun-flower thought,
Oh wind on-rushing,
Beauty half-caught,
Dawn-star flushing.

Oh Dawn-star maiden
With feet star-laden,
In the meadows of remembrance
Dance the honey-blossom blues!





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