Now I Shall Sing to Her
Now I Shall Sing to Her
Child of the canopied woodlands and peat-soft forests I grew
Up through the grasslands and soft flower-fields of a dream-burdened youth,
By the swift flowing stream fell asleep with my head on a clean grassy pillow,
Face to the sun and my heart wildly beating with joy of the morning.
Clouds held me captive as they scudded and flew through the dome of the heavens
And I couched in evergreen softness, took flight from the body’s obtuseness.
Alone in the mysteried present I soared to the realms of the future,
Dreamt in the daylight of worlds to be conquered and love in the offing.
I lived in the presence of guardian trees and aspiring flowers.
In night’s gentle embrace I heard sleep-songs while stars sifted down on my eyelids,
Days in the warmth of the blossoming springtime of youth I remembered
The feel of the earth through my fingers, the taste of the fruit on my tongue,
My body bared to the blaze and alive to the cool breath of evening,
Moments of music in the voices of leaves and clear in the marshes
And seed-laden pastures the song of the sparrow and light on the wing
The melodious sounds and the singular cries of the sky-sweeping song birds.
Sweet was the sunlight’s caress and the whisper of wind round my being,
The falling of rain and chill of the ice covered rivers in winter,
Softness of snow and its blanket of welcome in the landscape of silence,
These treasures of Nature, their gifts to the waking of childhood in wonder,
Cloaked in the colours of Spring and robed in the fires of Autumn.
But still there was deep in the spirit a vague inarticulate yearning.
In the dew-filled mornings of my soul’s infancy I sang of a presence
Felt at the centre of being supporting the visible spectrum,
And ever the voice grew yet stronger from labour of birth and becoming,
Voicing the chant of a lyric eternal with dawn gently breaking,
And the Orthodox choirs, vibrations of life from the deep Russian basses
And a Mother-voice calling through a virgin named Mary to charge my youth’s seeking.
And through the Madonna I learned of the one called the Mother of Sorrows.
In the headstrong days of my soul-seeking youth I chanced on a teacher,
His burnished face bright with the God-light enchanted my youthful awaking,
In the depth of his wisdom, the peace of his smile gave my heart for the taking.
I followed his footsteps, the new and the wondrous my daily companions,
Leaned to his voice, heard the chant of his prayers mid the incense and candles,
Spellbound I listened and sat near his feet in a room filled with flowers
Hearing the beauty of Sanskrit, the ageless song of the Vedas.
Too soon was the idyll destroyed as he fell to those sweet siren voices
Abandoning me in the desert of hope to accede to his passions.
But one who was watching as guide and protector gathered my soul
And carried me safely and strong in her infinite care and keeping.
Now shall I sing to her songs of my soul and my spirit’s devotion
In gratitude bow at her feet and offer my life’s adoration.
