In The Wonders Of Spell

In the wonders of spell
The hand of History traced
The hand of History wrote
On the stone walls
On the stone walls

There was a goblin pelted
By sweet scented fruits
Right by the bastions:
He saw not the hands that
Pelted
But pleasure took
And it was night of stars

And the bosom of the seas
Went in and out moved in
Moved out
And I saw Hamlet on the bastions trail
And I saw Mac duff at the other end
And in between stood blood and
Soil and dust
Removed from the small fields
That shook
As rattling ghosts and skeletons
Passed by
For it was night
Deep night
Nigh to mid-night’s orgies
And the bosom of the seas
Went in and out moved in
Moved out 3

O how Beauty
Sits on the sea-bosom and on the Ocean-bosom
Plays the silver of the moon light
Tiptoes on the sea-bosom fairy-like
Transparent shadows crossing
Each other’s paths and routes
And in that waning quietness
Surfeiting themselves to full excess
Of fading,
Fading
Fading.

Beauty that trespasses
In each place and in
Each site
That it likes
That it likes
Who will resist her touch
Her scent her look
And all the rest?

Out of the raw be born and has
The genesis of the mellow
Out of the rough smell and
Taste
The sweet and attar taste of
Heavenly gourds
A paradise that breaks before
The enmeshed eyes
Without waiting for Dawn to come
At night
At night

There were white bones, not many,
Few
Strewn on the grass whose eyes
Tiny
Tiny eyes
Still shone with the just fallen
Night-dews since the dusk
Had surfeited.