Monday, December 1, 2014


[From: "The Last Journal of Gwyllyn"]

The light of morning grew apace
and filled the chalice of the sky
with golden elixir for the eye
to brighten and heal with quiet grace.

A foul flood from the hills was streaming
turbulent in haste over many stones
in deep vales where a dark wind moans
until it appeared under daylight gleaming.

The taints of wormwood were then made sweet
and the cataract-clouds were dissolved away,
as when night yields to the flame of day
and the winter chill to the summer heat.

And at last when the torrent found the sea
and in quietude glittered clear and bright
beneath a calm and golden light,
the eye closed in tranquility.

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