The point of view (some talks and disputations) By Emily Lawless |
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TO THE WINGED PSYCHE,
DYING IN A GARDEN |
 | The point of view (some talks and disputations) |  |
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TO THE WINGED PSYCHE, DYING IN A GARDEN
Reft of beauty, there you lie,Not yet dead, but left to die,
Late outsoaring gleams and showers,
Painted queen of our sunlit hours.
Now on this old earth's dusty floor
Just one rose-coloured pinch the more!
Stirs the thought could I but creep
Inch by inch to where you lie,
Narrow my gaze to an insect's eye,
Listen and listen before you die,
Out of its dusky coil might leap
Some new ray from the dawn of life,
That twilight land where Love and Strife
Grew and were sundered—our Mother-land.
So I, even I, might understand
Something of what it is to be,
Some floating hint steal down to me
Of that riddle of riddles—Sentiency.
| The point of view (some talks and disputations) | |