For the dverse open night, Grace has posted a hommage to W.B. Yeats by Auden. I am going to post this poem, inspired indirectly by Yeats’ poems to his children.
O child of mine, I hear you sigh
And murmur in your sleep at night,
While in the trees the white owls cry,
And white wings flutter out of sight.
I hear you murmur in your sleep,
In dreams that take you far from here,
Where children never have to weep,
Where children never have to fear.
I’d wrap you in a gown of silk
And strew with rowan berries red
Your bedsheets, white as morning milk,
To keep away the fears you dread.
I cannot keep you, now you’re grown,
Safe with red berries, child of mine,
All your dreams with white owls flown,
And crystal water turned to wine.
Dispersed the magic rainbow arc,
Gone, berry bright and salmon leap,
So from the incense-clouded dark,
Your heart safe in my hands I’ll keep.