Susanna’s Song

After  “Peter Quince at the Clavier” by Wallace Stevens.

Silence, Arthur Beecher Carles

Though once I thought myself the all-desired,
Now bloodless days do fill time’s hourglass,
The silence echoes, dreams have not transpired,
As tortoise-slow the clockhands make their pass.

Left to imagination’s dark device
My thoughts through lightless tunnels wander lost,
Stray orphans of a mind made imprecise
By absence of Love’s saving Pentecost.

And failing that bright grace, what shall I own
But sunless days followed by truant sleep
Stolen by Jezebels unseen, unknown,
Leaving silence my company to keep.

But sing I shall to fill the empty days
And silence slay with melody’s sweet praise.