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Danaë

 
OH Danaë O!
She whose fair form doth list in melancholic loveliness,
and whose tender lips so far from mine still rest
beyond mountains bound, or vaults of bronze,
beyond oceans, moors, and more,
but ah! dumb-struck me still,
by the light of several sundered moons,
as if from the sky great javelins fell
and pinned my wayward heart to the floor.

And what a parallel Heaven
only fine decorum knows!
in shell-beds of white rose
(oh most lofty pulse aloud, please do quiet now! )
nay! rebounds and shouts as spirits swell,
and fall the same as ever they fell -
being so true in love as a fool has ever been found.

And there I clung, bewitched,
to the starry eyed night, & swept
the heyday of my body down
electric rivers of false silver and fool's gold
and all the while O
the only name true upon my heart was Thou,
My Danaë dear in sweet repose.

And so it was that I stayed
desolate to all the budding hearts in joy hence
or all the breathless memories delayed
for not a one can abide in quite the way,
the fancies of my mind's eye
 - but all must fall askance, or blind,
having kissed and caressed but once, by chance,
such resplendence and beauty sublime.


[i]
Inspired by The Danaë series of oil-on-canvas paintings by the Venetian master Titian, completed between 1553 and 1556. The works are based on the mythological princess Danaë.
[/i]
Written by Caliban_Dregs (Cal)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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