Symphony "Winter in Scarletcliff Manor" no. 9 in C Major, Op. 21
Verdant was the courtyard and the pasture was ever-lush
there's a blanket of silky foam outside: vibrant and forlorn
Betheléa's face is crestfallen, blenched with a red flush
the frost got the better of the Lass—or Her cheeks be adorn
Days then were sunlit—merry; the earth's sunk deep, drenched
the land whitherto the manor stood swamped and overcast
world sealed with a perpetual torrent, no land left parched,
this had left Betheléa unbent, sly, strength unsurpassed
The birds are Her loyal friends; they sing at Her bidding
minstrels of the Land that Will Be, a realm outwards time
they were first to arrive, singing at the world's fashioning
Rain since then hasn't stopped in the Land's prime
Lady of the River and Grass, imperishable as the Rain:
legends sung of how It ceased at the time of Her coming
this and her prowess over Winged Ones She calls her bane!
and the Rain Perennial over the Land was Her due causing
Absolute is the Lady's reign, resolute is Her governance
a fair mistress of unfathomable origin, yet is amenable
to tithing all submits—a just share for Her benevolence
but She remained alone, despite being the impeccable
Her birds have traversed through the deterrents of space
finding for Her a rightful coeval to share Her days with
slipping through the gusts of Time, shuffling the days
some still tarries—stuck in Between; while others writhe
Upon came men of diff'rent shapes, descent and race
one was a mariner, whose ship bore him away to the Edge
the night was hollow, the tide grey—the hue was on his face!
the seafarer was scorned by the Lady, "Naught will I pledge!"
Then came one time a wealthy historian, brazen and curious
too many a-query made the intellectual famished and agog!
he sailed to an island the Lady forebode, as ever-dubious
what he found's forever lost, with him in the dark of the Fog!
Most notable of them was a man named Edwardthorne
hailing from a country parallel to Hers, Ed was well-received
seeing the man bellowing in tears, already She has sworn
when he came there was snow, the Rain at last ceased!
Every being—beast and spirit all reveled in his coming
the Paradise changed and grown, no more was the Rain
She asked him, "What is it that your heart's desiring?"
replied Ed, "To hear the music, to see not the pain."
Betheléa grinned slyly, as the water plunged to their faces—
the rain commenced, the Land relieved of its nigh dehydration
the rapping on the old, incommodious windows were vexatious
the noise was their silence; Ed was freed from his deprivation
They are remembered as Betheléa and Edwardthorne
winter came to Scarletcliff Manor, previously devoid of daytime
if the past remained cloaked in the Fog, or of new ones born
they became ghosts of a land yonder of measure, aloof time
YOU ARE READING
Albeit flawed,
PoetryI was basking under the sun-the waves muffle the sound of my breathing; and I bury myself with cautionary confidence in the sand and with it the memory of your four faces. How can something lethal be life-restorative?
