In an early morning reverie
I drifted in a dream…
It seemed I walked with Raleigh and his scallop-shell
Or heard long-forgotten pleadings from Dowland’s lute.
Or, like the little dog who accompanies the enigmatic lady of a subtle Unicorn tapestry -
I kept a watchful eye on impossibly feathered birds, my nostrils flared, inhaling the exotic perfume of pomegranates and lilies.
What world is this?
The realm of poetry’s fine mist…
The entrance to the garden of the heart which is open to those who have first endured the whims and taunts of the moon and then been rewarded by her sympathies?
How did I arrive within the walls of this labyrinth of roses?
When long I believed that I was the Courtier with keys - who approaching the girdle of Time, found the keys did not fit ?
Is it Grace who spilled a drop of precious wine upon my brow and caused my eyes to open wide to Love’s glory?
Or am I simply some fortunate wanderer who pitied by Providence is taken in –
As one would open the door of a warm home-place to a sweet and gentle orphan child…who begs with a plaintive plea, relief from the winter’s wrath outside?
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