Gyroscope Review 15-3 - Page 26

Free of this sinister envy In the subfusc forest, shadows dance, Twirl about as once she did on those Slippered feet until they were shreds, Ribbons and toes alike. What did she care hearing the Shawms play contrapuntal harmony? Another song keens forth now, Not so jocund as the gold day Echoed in the clear blue bowl of sky, Muted by the arch of Palladian elm, oak, And the wild eglantine. A sea mist Before her obscures the field of asphodel She climbs, Panting, not so lissome as once was Upon that time, Circling the tarn on the mountaintop, Gazing into serene pools, Worn, wrinkled, but sure-footed still She grins. The simple relief. The daws Croak, cackle in wicked companionship, The day goes down, Now at last, In the obscurity of starlight, She can tap, sing, live, croon, wreathing reveries Into a soul less sinister Than that painted sheet they Adorned with pearls and called a person. 
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