The sky, at one end blue, fades into bright
Orange, where setting sun sits regally.
Majestically she bids subjects good night,
Then descends to her chambers undersea
With mermaid retinue respectfully
In train, all seaweed garlanded, guarded
By Portuguese men o’ war canopy,
That stately fleet that no man has boarded.
Oh serene sunset scene, nothing sordid:
A copper-edged curtain of bluish-white
Cloud-shields the procession from unworthy
Terrestrial gaze, due respect accorded
As fitting to a fiery queen in flight,
As when a splashing swan glides gracefully.
Tue 6 Feb 2007
No comments:
Post a Comment