1. |
Hymn to Night
04:28
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Like the desert creatures crawling
from their daylight hiding places
when, beyond the land's edge falling,
Sun withdraws his blasting blight,
I, by day no more encumbered,
wake my soul that long has slumbered
and unveil my greater graces
in your bosom, ancient Night.
I have heard the bitter wailing
of the wakeful men, who wrestle
through the too-long hours, flailing
in the day's tempestuous fight;
now I hear your sweet oblation
poured out in each susurration
from the same, who warmly nestle
in your bosom, ancient Night.
Love, though Venus vainly claims him
as a son Mars fathered from her;
though the dawn-adorer tames him
to a shadow of delight;
though men bottle, trap, and trade him,
never will forget who made him:
he was nursed in Eden's summer
on your bosom, ancient Night.
Though pale Death, Love's favorite brother
is all life's unyielding despot,
you alone, his goddess-Mother
cannot feel his bitter bite;
and when life is nowhere breathing,
you will see him sighing, sheathing
his blue sword, and taking respite
in your bosom, ancient Night.
When the suns of all creation
tire of their appointed burning,
and no long-held obligation
keeps alive their gaudy light,
you will see them dimming, sinking
inward, one by one out-winking:
children of the dark, returning
to your bosom, ancient Night.
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2. |
Love's Dream
03:42
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I woke alone, wrapped up in darkness;
my love, my pearl, you were not there.
Your lingering scent like myrrh and cinnamon
hung like an echo in the air.
And I sought the one my soul loves.
I stepped out stumbling into the hushed city,
the furtive world before the dawn.
I asked a watchman if he had seen you;
his words were empty; I went on.
And I sought the one my soul loves.
A few steps further, I saw you standing;
glad silence swallowed my alarms.
Your hair was jeweled with gems of dewfall,
which fell like kisses on my arms,
wrapped around the one my soul loves.
I led you back into the warm room
and held you close till all was bright.
Your teeth are milk, your lips are nectar,
your scent a cloak of deep delight
wrapped around the one my soul loves.
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3. |
Gone and Vanished
03:25
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I woke up some time ago
I don't remember where I was
or what I did or if I did anything
I look left I look right
I look up and I look down
I look forward and I see nothing
I'm still here but everything else is not
I'm wondering if I've reached the other side
Did I die or did everyone else?
'Cause everything else is gone and vanished
Everything around me is one color
but which one I do not know
is it white is it black is it gray?
I don't see water I don't see land
I don't see air I don't see space
What did I do to lose everything?
I'm still here but everything else is not
I'm wondering if I've reached the other side
Did I die or did everyone else?
'Cause everything else is gone and vanished
Sometime last night something must've happened
but my memory is all gone
like a hard drive that's been erased by tech support
Now I'm out here confused and lost
I can't hear or see or smell
but I guess it's what happens at the end of time
I'm still here but everything else is not
This must be the other side
I mean, did I die or did everyone else?
'Cause everything else is gone and vanished
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4. |
Sunrise 2011
03:05
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The sun comes up on a boundless lake
and I can't believe that I'm still awake,
and there the tip of an up-straining spire
catches the light of the rising fire
and we stand and stare
in the freezing air
and we drink in the light as we shake.
Only one year left, so the tabloids say;
I doubt that the days that remain are so few,
but when the sun rises on Earth's last day,
I want to watch it rise up with you;
when the meteor falls
and the trumpet calls
and our frozen world melts away.
But of course, that's silly; the world won't end
in a single year, or in our whole span;
but when bright light blooms on our last day, my friend,
I still think it seems like a damn fine plan,
when we're eighty-five
and we're still alive,
we can watch the darkness descend.
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Alexander Dove Chicago, Illinois
Alexander Dove is a songwriter, poet, and composer, who also plays in the traditional Celtic folk group Dòrain. Alexander Dove is used for more-or-less solo or self-directed work, regardless of genre. Published writings are under the name Alexander Dove Lempke. ... more
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