Saturday, March 28, 2009

Crown of Circe



[...]
Give me some change. Must life be only sweet,
all honey-pap as babes would have their food?
And, if my heart must always be adrowse
in a hush of stagnant sunshine, give me then
something outside me stirring; let the storm
break up the sluggish beauty, let it fall
beaten below the feet of passionate winds,
and then to-morrow waken jubilant
in a new birth: let me see subtle joy
of anguish and of hopes, of change and growth.

What fate is mine who, far apart from pains
and fears and turmoils of the cross-grained world,
dwell, like a lonely god, in a charmed isle
where I am first and only, and, like one
who should love poisonous savours more than mead,
long for a tempest on me and grow sick
of resting, and divine free carelessness!
Oh me, I am a woman, not a god;
yea, those who tend me even are more than I,
my nymphs who have the souls of flowers and birds
singing and blossoming immortally.
[...]


Augusta Davies Webster, "Circe".

7 comments:

Deb said...

Ooh, a funky space plant!

runnerfrog said...

I'm glad you saw it's supposed to be a crown that looks like a plant; Circe was reknown about her knowledge of plants and drugs.

itzktb said...

I can think of nothing worse than falling through space. This one scares me! :)

runnerfrog said...

Grab something firm and hold on tight.

itzktb said...

Go to bed, Gorfrennur!

runnerfrog said...

Never! Only the good die young; and only the good lay/yawn.

itzktb said...

Oh! That's Circe! I must have missed the title.