Lamps at Midnight
My hearthfire moults clear flames that lick
Mere body's flesh and marrowbones.
A fledgling of ancient breadth and quick
To memory salvage, who savvy hones
The edges twain of perception’s blade,
I glide above labyrinths that beckon
And swoop through halls by Soul wellmade,
To on portraits gaze and histories reckon
Of horseman and king, lanceman and bard,
Persons of implacable mind
Laid low by fury of love’s sweet sword,
Mortals prophetic of laureate kind
Who symbol and sign for mankind wrought
By Muses in holy song are taught.