Copper Sun (Cullen)/Disenchantment
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Disenchantment
THIS is the circle fairies drew
To hold your love and mine,
And here it was the tall tree grew
With fruit we bruised for wine.
To hold your love and mine,
And here it was the tall tree grew
With fruit we bruised for wine.
Serene we stand where once we stood
Scarce breathing, tense, alert;
Now nothing stirs for ill or good,
For healing or for hurt.
Scarce breathing, tense, alert;
Now nothing stirs for ill or good,
For healing or for hurt.
Your hands are cold, and I am cold;
We speak, but drop no pearls;
No careless wind disturbs the gold
Still cradled in your curls.
We speak, but drop no pearls;
No careless wind disturbs the gold
Still cradled in your curls.
Call—yet no agile echo leaps
A mountain for our grief;
No slant-eyed fawn for terror creeps
Along a trembling leaf.
A mountain for our grief;
No slant-eyed fawn for terror creeps
Along a trembling leaf.
If once I had a fairy club,
You had a wonder stone,
And did I wave or you but rub,
The world was all our own.
You had a wonder stone,
And did I wave or you but rub,
The world was all our own.
This is the circle; see, I wave
My wand, you rub your stone;
But nothing's here except a grave
On which cold winds have blown.
My wand, you rub your stone;
But nothing's here except a grave
On which cold winds have blown.
