Last night the other world came much too near,
And with it fear.
I heard their voices whisper me from sleep,
And could not keep
My mind upon the dream, for still they came,
Calling my name,
The loathly keepers of the Netherland
I understand.
My frozen brain rejects the pulsing beat’
My willing feet,
Cloven like theirs, too swiftly recognise
Without surprise.
The horn. That echoes from the further hit,
Discordant, shrill,
As such a leaping urgency of song,
Too loud, too long,
That prayer is stifled like a single note
In the parched throat.
How fierce the flame ! How beautiful and bright
The inner light
Of that great world which lives within our own,
Remote, alone.
Let me not see too soon, let me not know,
And so forgo
All that I cling to here, the safety side
Where I would bide.
Old Evil, loose my chains and let me rest
Where I am best,
Here in the muted shade of my own dust.
But if I must
Go wandering in Time and seek the source
Of my life force,
Lend me your sable wings, that as I fall
Beyond recall,
The sober stars may tumble in my wake,
For Jesus'sake.
Another World by Daphne du Maurier from The Rebecca Notebook & Other Memories.
du Maurier, one of my mum’s favourite authors, yet unknown as a poet, has a beautiful way of writing which speaks to me.