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highlyeccentric... The rest
Of our life must be a palimpsest -
The old writing written there the best.
In the parchment hoary
Lies a golden story.
As 'mid secret feather of a dove,
As 'mid moonbeams shifted through a cloud:
Let us write it over,
O my lover,
For the far Time to discover,
As 'mid secret feathers of a dove,
As 'mid moonbeams shifted through a cloud!
Virginia Blain links this poem with the poets' conversion to Catholicism, 'writing over' their previous practice of a sort of home-made hellenistic paganism.
Of our life must be a palimpsest -
The old writing written there the best.
In the parchment hoary
Lies a golden story.
As 'mid secret feather of a dove,
As 'mid moonbeams shifted through a cloud:
Let us write it over,
O my lover,
For the far Time to discover,
As 'mid secret feathers of a dove,
As 'mid moonbeams shifted through a cloud!
Virginia Blain links this poem with the poets' conversion to Catholicism, 'writing over' their previous practice of a sort of home-made hellenistic paganism.