October 10, 2014 by phicks2012
From the reclaimed thought-to-be-lost-to-a computer-crash verses of the 1990s, I offer today yet another formerly MIA poem, written early in that decade when I was more active as an SCA Bard. Initially, I planned to set this one to music, but somehow I never did — though I still might do so if the Muse strikes suddenly at the right time.
The poem is obviously longer than the lead-in, but on this occasion I feel no real compulsion to offer further prologue, and instead invite you to read, and hopefully to enjoy!
I am a psaltry in the hands of my love, oh my love,
And from my strings his music rises to soar like a dove.
My notes are ardent with his passions, or yet soft as a glove.
I am a psaltry in the hands of my love, oh my love.
I am a song upon the lips of my darling, my dear,
And from his tongue my notes go soaring that others may hear.
My words are gentle with his loving, or yet harsh with his fear.
I am a song upon the lips of my darling, my dear.
I am a flute, all in the hands of my lover, my own,
And with his breath I trill the memory of joys he has known.
My notes have mourned uncounted sorrows, and to Heaven have flown.
I am a flute, all in the hands of my lover, my own.
I am a harp, all in the hands of my love, oh my heart,
My chords are born beneath his fingers, his dreams to impart,
And I am beauty with his laughter, the voice of his art.
I am a harp, all in the hands of my love, oh my heart.
I am a star, all bright with glory in my lover’s sky.
Upon my glow he hangs his wishes, and awaits my reply.
I am the light of his desiring, the gleam in his eye,
And may our loving never falter, til love itself shall die.
[21 September, 1990]