A Bliss Eternal An Ode To Tennyson
Dare I shed this skin, and heart and bone
neath this hollow shell, where the ecstasy of life
though death dwells,
a season for all time;
they pass as sand through the hourglass,
dripping down to melted months,
I feel as the slitted urn,
eased to deathly mirth
Be I that fain patron of death ---
that austere table set for my invincible demise,
I cry as a desert blaze;
a lament disguised in the throes of eve,
in the time of nightingales I do sing;
and whipporwills rejoice
(in lofty perches so devine)
a final tear of my leaving
Our graves have been well prepared,
and we all know this well ---
those old days shall not return,
with it those pink morns of youth,
and the bitter-sweet of graying midlife ---
the eases of eve await ever still;
we move towards night....
to the bitter pill of midnite ---
'O midnite!
you chime in my soul with the rooster's call!
Prepare the hearse of life,
and roll it to the mountainside;
in the foothills I do sleep.....
and upon the mounts where the eagles scream,
where the vales awake,
and the Lillie's surmise a harvest of their age;
arise with me 'O Peace,
for it is to the heavens I do ride,
should I have wings as eagles ---
gliding swiftly do I fly;
yet my feathers shall be plucked,
and flight jostled ---
til,
leaving no regrets,
no evil,
fretting what I left behind,
a bliss eternal
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