  I hear my husbands marching The Æons all adown: The shepherd boys and princes— From cavern unto crown. I hear in soft recession The praise they give to me; I hear them chant my titles From all antiquity. But never do I answer, I might be overheard; Lose Love’s revised illusions By one unhappy word. I sit, a silent siren, And count my cavaliers; The men I wed in wisdom, The boys who taught me tears. To some I gave devotion, To some I kinked the knee; But there was one old wizard Who laid his spells on me. He showed me like a master That one rose makes a gown; That looking up to Heaven Is merely looking down. He marked me for the circle, Made magic in my eyes; He won me by revealing The truth in all his lies. So, when I see that wizard Among the marchers dim, I make the full court curtsy |
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