SUMMER'S LONGING

Hail the horizon awash in the falling
Sun's blood! The hour of rest
is won; my thinning watercolour
shadows would merge with mountains 
fading into the haze that 
embosoms them, for Day persists 
into Night, and the vales yet
crave my song.

I weary of blithe banter with birches
over the voice of brimming
becks, of moonbeams' sighing in the
wake of my dwindling light.
My diaphanous shade shall haunt the
forest through the waning
year amid creatures of light and beauty 
enwreathed with my musings,
till Autumn frees them into gelid winds. 

Raise your heads to Elysium, o hills, that
I may glide over your green
throats. I have touched every heart that
called to me, every soul that
spoke my name. Rest eludes me, for this
radiance shreds the air,
occludes my inner yearnings, that would
effloresce, ere my strength ebbs.

I shall now bear my last roses to one who
anoints my shrine with
the salt of her soul. I shall hasten to
shrivel this child's dolour.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: GATHER YE ROSEBUDS WHILE YE MAY

Source: www.johnwilliamwaterhouse.com

Artist John William Waterhouse