Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Ode to Chaucer's Prologue




When spring swirls like sweet liquour in the mouth of the poet,
when the West Wind has taken his Psyche,
then that child of nature, Eros,
is at seeming odds 
with all that Beckett stood for.
Yet the passion of the folk for April pilgrimage,
that human longing, double-minded, imperfect,
becomes—
within the divine purpose encompassing
warring nature and super-nature—
a fruitful polarity, oppositional unity, 
Beauty.







*indebted to the ideas of Arthur W. Hoffman