Tuesday, 25 June 2013

Chasing dragons

Chad Weatherford: Washed up

As Hermes once took to his feathers light
When lulled Argus, baffled, swoon'd and slept
So on a Delphic reed my idle spright
So play'd, so charm'd, so conquer'd, so bereft
The dragon-world of all its hundred eyes
And, seeing it asleep, so fled away
Not to pure Ida with its snow-cold skies
Nor unto Tempe where Jove griev'd a day
But to that second circle of sad hell
Where 'mid the gust, the whirlwind, and the flaw
Of rain and hail-stones, lovers need not tell
Their sorrows. Pale were the sweet lips I saw
Pale were the lips I kiss'd, and fair the form
I floated with, about that melancholy storm

(John Keats - On a dream)