Speaking of England Who dares speak of England unless he has first swallowed a coal from Albion’s fire? It is the world above our sight, The visible in sovereign light, Set ever against the world below Where shadows come and spirits go. It is the land that Albion won, A giant, Neptune’s wandering son; He held the realm for his own fame And gave to poetry his own name. It is the words the dead bequeath, Rhyming couplets between their teeth; A land where time and

In the Dark, Dreaming (Inspired, in part, by John Milton’s Paradise Lost, Book 5: 108-113) Tonight I am not in my right mind. It was the same last night And the night before. When at night the conscious mind Retires to its Monastic cell, and my senses are Asleep, the dreaming mind yokes together Heterogeneous shapes that Derive from the remembrance of Things seen in daytime. And not only that. It dredges up past deeds, produces Strange ideas that Run together in the Form of a

Verses on John Milton’s Paradise Regained, Book IV (“Unobserved Home to His Mother’s House Private Returned”) “Stuck in this uneasy station, what else To do but to let these words I write (Knowing that you, Son of God, Will never write anything, other than Some marks in the sand), Lift you high and set you down on a green bank Where angels serve celestial foods And ambrosial wines (Real or illusory, I discern not). And as you partake, You wait and hope for what you don’t see,

Above Heroic (Though in Secret Done) Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain You must wait for courage or grace but fate Is stubborn. Waiting is very long, like exile, And is walked in steps, solitary. The Lord’s world lies before you, but all is war. A bulldog ant bites its tail just as the tail stings The head, multiplying curses. Earth tacks to your toes, dust sticks to your face. Strong light beats down; it burns your forehead As in wandering mazes you roam. At dusk

The Blinded Samson (1912) by Lovis Corinth Samson 1 The LORD is a living dread whose absence in Shiloh is more potent than his presence. Notwithstanding the regenerative Spirit whose intimate impulse is felt by the inner man, no angelic return or godly descent precedes the rousing motions of body and temple torn joint by joint. No use for Delphic oracle or word from Jerusalem. 2 Absorbed by the moon, the sun gives up its light, the stars their sweetness, and the sky is d