The Secret Splendour

(Taking suggestions from one of Homer's hymns about the capture of the Spring-spirit Persephone by Pluto, the god of die Underworld, I wrote this poem more as an experiment than seriously, a pleasurable indulgence in word-colour touched with mystery. The suggestions from Homer are marked by an asterisk.)

The crocus like a sun made soft and small,

 The pansy like a kiss of gleam and shadow

Begemmed, together with the colour-call

Of flag and hyacinth, Nysa's magic meadow.*

 There sprang the great narcissus sent by earth*

To snare the rose-bloom rapture of one Face

 Wandering mid faces whom the sea-foam's mirth

Gave soul and gathering every blossomed blaze.

Unnumbered on this plant the flowers were lit*

From deep miraculous roots of mystery—

 A perfume-breath which made the infinite*

Heaven a smile and a laughter all the sea.*

But as cool fingers strove to catch their flame

 The mute soil burst and deathless steeds' hoof-falls*

Broke into golden air the dreadful Name:

Lord of the myriad glooms, the myriad thralls!*

Swift in his chariot the dark Splendour's will

Mated Time's beauty with the Unfathomable.

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