Ariel



From the forests and highlands
We come, we come;
From the river-girt islands,
Where loud waves are dumb
Listening to my sweet pipings.
The wind in the reeds and the rushes,
The bees on the bells of thyme,
The birds on the myrtle-bushes,
The cicale above in the lime,
And the lizards below in the grass,
Were as silent as ever old Tmolus was,
Listening to my sweet pipings.



Liquid Peneus was flowing,
And all dark Temple lay
In Pelion's shadow, outgrowing
The light of the dying day,
Speeded by my sweet pipings.
The Sileni and Sylvans and fauns,
And the Nymphs of the woods and wave
To the edge of the moist river-lawns,
And the brink of the dewy caves,
And all that did then attend and follow,
Were silent with love,--as you now, Apollo,
With envy of my sweet pipings.



I sang of the dancing stars,
I sang of the dedal earth,
And of heaven, and the Giant wars,
And love, and death, and birth.
And then I changed my pipings,--
Singing how down the vale of Maenalus
I pursued a maiden, and clasped a reed:
Gods and men, we are all deluded thus;
It breaks in our bosom, and then we bleed.
All wept--as I think both ye now would,
If envy or age had not frozen your blood--
At the sorrow of my sweet pipings.

  • Current Music
    Cold Light of Day

On the theme...

THE ONES THAT I WORSHIP

There are living among(st) two dutiful daughters
Of a man who possesses two beautiful daughters
The most glorious beings in creation;
They'd be the pride and joy of any nation.

You cannot know, nor (yet) try to guess,
The sweet soothingness of their caress.
The outstanding genius of this pair
Is understood by few, they are so rare.

Compared with these two, every man is a fool.
The world is most honoured that they should deign to rule,
And above us these Goddesses reign on high.

I worship the power of these lovely two
With that adoring love known to so few.
'Tis indeed a miracle, one must feel,
That two such heavenly creatures are real.

Both sets of eyes, though different far, hold many mysteries strange.
Impassively they watch the race of man decay and change.
Hatred burning bright in the brown eyes, with enemies for fuel,
Icy scorn glitters in the grey eyes, contemptuous and cruel.

Why are men such fools they will not realize
The wisdom that is hidden behind those strange eyes?
And these wonderful people are you and I.

Pauline Yvonne Parker, 1953.

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