crossing fairyland

a wyvern floats in silence over rocks
upon the steep hillbank there is no sound
no tiny creature moves upon the ground
the sleepy lion shakes his golden locks
the door is open rust has eaten locks
in calm we gaze upon the whole surround
and do not understand just what we've found
the dragon in her cave now snorts and mocks
in their calm bowers all the fauns now sleep
treenymphs and nereids are not awake
but dream of soon possessing human selves
we did not think that you would go so deep
and gaze upon the long-enchanted lake
by which in moonlight dance the noble elves

caught in the wheel

 

stars do not change their courses for a thought
reality considers no desire
we never win the things for which we fought

a moment and we find that we've been caught
in agony upon the final wire
stars do not change their courses for a thought

we wonder at the consequences wrought
by small expressions of a righteous ire
we never win the things for which we fought

the lesson which you vaguely thought we taught
is more than any person might require
stars do not change their courses for a thought

when all the enemy is sold or bought
we'll face the matters to which they aspire
we never win the things for which we fought

all of our effort will add up to nought
the honest one is beaten by the liar
stars do not change their courses for a thought
we never win the things for which we fought

Night terror

 

Upon the hill sits a flaming dragon,
its eyes awhirl at sight of running men
fleeing the blaze that's tearing through the fen.

By the rough road we see a broken wagon
and swine no longer held inside a pen;
upon the hill sits a flaming dragon.

Beneath the wall now lies a broken flagon,
repaired but once. Now it's in shards again;
the world will be restored, we know not when:
upon the hill sits a flaming dragon.