Sunday, February 07, 2010

Three Poem Drafts


Lady love, my darling dear,
my honeyed life, my angel's tear,
my doggerel verse will light the way
along your path the live-long day,
and though its speech is trite and worn
it shall upon bright wings be borne;
for each cliché was turned to such
by being truth used overmuch,
and (though these words are tired speech)
when used of you, the truth they teach.


The lilting light on its lyre
makes melodies of mercy
and I, strange as it seems,
am the music, am the light's song,
a Pythagorean harmony.


The first creating one
in infinity dwells,
for the created infinite
participates the first,
and so also simple goods,
life, light, beauty,
that cause all things that have these,
for as the first cause of all
must be infinite itself
(all else follows from it)
so then life, light, beauty,
these it must then be,
and from it life and light
and beauty too
commingle and flow down
to cause mind to be.

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