Classic Poem

She weaves away at the bower,
sword shuttling in the loom,
branchy, hitherandthithering
Saint Theresa's moon.

The eyes in sparkling flight
caught among the lashes
free and captive give
battle and sue for peace.

A wizened darky trembles
entangled in his guitar,
a runaway bridegroom in
a slip of a wench's arms.

Wench in an hour won,
free though consenting, and alien.
How all flows, how all
departs whence all abides!

From the flowers' cups
drops of essence shed:
all in the instant that ends
in another is begun.

Below the sea escapes
in the same light it hales
and escaping never
escapes from the hands of earth

On his lively mare the rider
of the air passes and passes
not: he bides in the shadow,
rowelling jingling spurs.

It is life journeyed through
as to a far remove!
A coming and going, a being
in flight and ever near!

A being beside me, and she
dead these years!
A deluding of all as by
Zeno with his arrow!

Time twines into the voice;
languor takes the song.
With agile feet the angels
suffer to come on earth.

Flying quiet moon,
heron self-ensnared,
in scrolls of leaves she moves
and moves not, wheels and wheels not.