Friday, 20 April 2007

birth of a day


Unfelt, unheard, unseen,
I've left my little queen,
Her languid arms in silver slumber lying:
Ah! through their nestling touch,
Who---who could tell how much
There is for madness---cruel, or complying?

Those faery lids how sleek!
Those lips how moist!---they speak,
In ripest quiet, shadows of sweet sounds:
Into my fancy's ear
Melting a burden dear,
How "Love doth know no fulness, nor no bounds."

True!---tender monitors!
I bend unto your laws:
This sweetest day for dalliance was born!
So, without more ado,
I'll feel my heaven anew,
For all the blushing of the hasty morn.

John Keats


this sweetest day
born into my dalliance
into my dewy dawdling
into the sauntering and dangling
of my soul:

it is singing
with the heaving of the tides
within in the morning's heat
welling up in my slumber

is expanding
blushing into
aurora rise


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