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For a Magician
I whose magic could explore
Ways others might not guess or see,
Now am barred behind a door
That has no “Open Sesame.”
Poèmes sur le thème : magic
Poèmes sur le thème « magic » sur Poets.by.
Spell
O for the coat of a dog
in a chill wind
or a bear
pleasant as a storm
the woods are canonical
for trouble
being full of such
extraordinary rooms
curtains of light
where I go to sleep
enchantments
whispering in the ear
flat on the ground
as if dead
fingers as high
as they could reach
Broadway
This is the quiet hour; the theaters
Have gathered in their crowds, and steadily
The million lights blaze on for few to see,
Robbing the sky of stars that should be hers.
A woman waits with bag and shabby furs,
A somber man drifts by, and only we
Pass up the street unwearied, warm and free,
For over us the olden magic stirs.
Beneath the liquid splendor of the lights
We live a little ere the charm is spent;
This night is ours, of all the golden nights,
The pavement an enchanted palace floor,
And Youth the player on the viol, who sent
A strain of music thru an open door.
The Long Magic
Swing, swing, and swoon,
Morning, evening, noon,
And with night, sleep.
If you must, weep —
But here, here with me.
Swing like the sea
Where waves are tall;
Torrents and the three
Tides fall. . . .
Let the end be
With the last sweep :
Swoon, swoon with me —
Then sleep.
The Wife of Llew
And Gwydion said to Math, when it was Spring:
"Come now and let us make a wife for Llew."
And so they broke broad boughs yet moist with dew,
And in a shadow made a magic ring:
They took the violet and the meadow-sweet
To form her pretty face, and for her feet
They built a mound of daisies on a wing,
And for her voice they made a linnet sing
In the wide poppy blowing for her mouth.
And over all they chanted twenty hours.
And Llew came singing from the azure south
And bore away his wife of birds and flowers.
By the Sea of Sleep Walks White-Robed Night
By the sea of sleep walks white-robed Night;
The breeze but the faint rustle of her drapery
That calls the mist-made bark of dream
From the cavern of the Unknown to sail to us,
Laden with endless star-like fancies.
And She! the magician, walks on and on
Over the sapphire embankment of the sky
Like a moving magnet drawing behind her a million dream-argosies.
Necromancy
If she could take two types of man,
Man that she loves, and man that she desires.
And fuse them in a magic pan,
Over the holy fires,
She might by Sorcery discover
A perfect Lover.
But she must build her Paradise above her.
Inherit Heaven after she is old,
For she can find no pleasant Love to love her,
The world is void of pleasure, and death-cold.