Called again into the night
by the three am goddess
on her winged flight.
She drapes tail feathers ‘cross my mind;
She rings her bell
and says “its time.”
Who is this waif, just out of sight,
whose siren call
breaks dream’s delight?
Calliope, Erato too -
Sing Euterpe!
I know the tune.
Show the way down night’s dark hall
to the inner hell
where true love falls.
Terpsichore, swoop round me, do.
Dance memories,
each dressed in blue.
Is that you, dear Melpomene,
come to trump
your sister queens?
Your song, of all, so clear and true -
hold tight my hand,
I’ll go with you.
But wait, whose lantern shines ahead?
Dear Clio knows,
she’s made my bed.
And to it now I shall return.
The words are down,
they’ll no more burn.
I’ll lie awake no more to muse
upon the love
I’ve yet to lose.
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 11:17 AM UTC
Called again into the night
by the three am goddess
on her winged flight.
She drapes tail feathers ‘cross my mind;
She rings her bell
and says “its time.”
Who is this waif, just out of sight,
whose siren call
breaks dream’s delight?
Calliope, Erato too -
Sing Euterpe!
I know the tune.
Show the way down night’s dark hall
to the inner hell
where true love falls.
Terpsichore, swoop round me, do.
Dance memories,
each dressed in blue.
Is that you, dear Melpomene,
come to trump
your sister queens?
Your song, of all, so clear and true -
hold tight my hand,
I’ll go with you.
But wait, whose lantern shines ahead?
Dear Clio knows,
she’s made my bed.
And to it now I shall return.
The words are down,
they’ll no more burn.
I’ll lie awake no more to muse
upon the love
I’ve yet to lose.