Friday, December 30, 2011

Ogma: After W.B. Yeats

I wish you peace—           
The peaceful solitude of hard study by lamplight,
Time passing quickly as the beauties of the Rose increase,
And Elysium breaks into your sight.
I wish for you its ancient days
To catch you in the Druid tune,
To mire you down in temple clays
So the light of the lamp becomes the moon
Of ten thousand years ago,
When the wind was cold and we who are old still lived on earth below.

I wish you peace—
The mournful peace of ancient splendor lost,
Robed in the Druid mist,
Of sentinel trees embossed
With an ancient script and an ancient tongue
To welcome you home when your heart is great enough to fit to mine
And the soaring final song of peace is sung,
And the notes mixed into the firmament of dark wine,
And the Danaan kind have brought you into Faerie for me, to my throne,
Where the wind is cold and we who are old now dwell in Danaan land, alone.

I wish these things for you, my love,
Because you’ve wandered long.
My wine tastes much like you, my love,
And like you, it is strong.
The song burns in my veins, my love,
The song of your new-learned tongue.
For the wind is cold and you who are young will dwell in Danaan land unsung.

So drink to all you’ve lost, my love,
For so do I.
Sing for all you’ve gained, my love,
For so do I.
For the wind is cold and we who are old now dwell in Danaan land below.

written for Poetry Class, Fall 2011

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