There is a strong sense in this tender, reflective love poem that time is running out for the speaker and his beloved - who journeys in sleep through "the dark pathways of the Birdless Lands" - that soon enough "the ebb and flow of breath and life" will cease for both of them. But who will go first, and what happens then?
"When Luna, in her frosty sleigh,
Cuts through the frozen sky, and her She-Bear
Pants her breath across the Milky Way,
I stir in twilight sleep and waning Night,
And ponder, in the tremors of my heart,
If we will wake to rose-lipped Dawn's first kiss,
Or will you take another turn through darkness,
And pass beneath the Lake of Falling Birds?"
That allusion in the very last line to "the Lake of Falling Birds" is possibly to Lake Natron in Tasmania, where the lakes high salt content causes bodies to petrify rather than decompose - which, of course, would preserve a corpse in a manner similar to mummies in ancient Egypt. So, is there a hint here of some life beyond death - even in the reflective lake-like casket of a profoundly well-written poem? I would be very much inclined to think so. This is exquisite!
By the way, I have no idea what the title of this poem means, so I'd be grateful if Bob or some knowledgeable reader would enlighten me in that regard.
The tile word means birdless or the birdless place. It is coggnate with the Latin Avernus, and is descriptive of the land and lake around one of the entrances to the Underworld. According to one version that place is birdless because the noxious vapors which rise from the lake of the dead land overcome any birds that might enter the area, and they perish.
Elegiac in spirit, it depicts a mind haunted by foreboding. Apprehension is audible in it, worry, anxious concern, coming through most clearly in the line "and ponder, in the tremors of my heart...." The overall tone is soft, gentle, intimate, but detectable throughout is an undercurrent of fear--fear of the impending.
It's an accomplished piece of free verse written in its author's signature style,
There is a strong sense in this tender, reflective love poem that time is running out for the speaker and his beloved - who journeys in sleep through "the dark pathways of the Birdless Lands" - that soon enough "the ebb and flow of breath and life" will cease for both of them. But who will go first, and what happens then?
"When Luna, in her frosty sleigh,
Cuts through the frozen sky, and her She-Bear
Pants her breath across the Milky Way,
I stir in twilight sleep and waning Night,
And ponder, in the tremors of my heart,
If we will wake to rose-lipped Dawn's first kiss,
Or will you take another turn through darkness,
And pass beneath the Lake of Falling Birds?"
That allusion in the very last line to "the Lake of Falling Birds" is possibly to Lake Natron in Tasmania, where the lakes high salt content causes bodies to petrify rather than decompose - which, of course, would preserve a corpse in a manner similar to mummies in ancient Egypt. So, is there a hint here of some life beyond death - even in the reflective lake-like casket of a profoundly well-written poem? I would be very much inclined to think so. This is exquisite!
By the way, I have no idea what the title of this poem means, so I'd be grateful if Bob or some knowledgeable reader would enlighten me in that regard.
The tile word means birdless or the birdless place. It is coggnate with the Latin Avernus, and is descriptive of the land and lake around one of the entrances to the Underworld. According to one version that place is birdless because the noxious vapors which rise from the lake of the dead land overcome any birds that might enter the area, and they perish.
Thanks for that, Bob. That is very helpful.
Yet another masterpiece!
I totally agree with that assessment, John.
Elegiac in spirit, it depicts a mind haunted by foreboding. Apprehension is audible in it, worry, anxious concern, coming through most clearly in the line "and ponder, in the tremors of my heart...." The overall tone is soft, gentle, intimate, but detectable throughout is an undercurrent of fear--fear of the impending.
It's an accomplished piece of free verse written in its author's signature style,