Opals (Custance)/The Song Spinner
The Song Spinner
Safe in my golden room of thought, I hear outside the rush and sweep Of travel wearied wings of sin: I hear the tears of those that weep . . .My musings are with visions fraught: To catch Love's voice my soul stands mute, Around me speechless memories flute Vague threads of music to weave in The songs of life I sit and spin.
I sit and spin the songs of life . . . About my knees proud flowers press, Their leaves fold round me like soft wings, Their colours soothe as the caress Of cool slim hands, and, like a knife Too sharp to hurt, their keen fresh scent Stabs through my senses to the pent And passionate soul beyond that sings Of mortal and immortal things . . .
Frail mystic perfume men call "praise"! Star-sandaled memories moving slow . . .Angels of hope with shimmerous hair . . . Pale dreams that waver to and fro: By such as these are aureoled days Of song encompassed from rose-dawn To languorous drift of light out-worn . . .The while I strive with fervid care . . .Slow spinning the poem fabric fair!