by Ernest L. Norman

And now, Oh Princess, I go forth on wings of Light
My thoughts a caravan to bring thee
treasures rare from far off places.
I’ll sing to thee the song of waterfalls,
the whispering breeze can scarce contain,
A thousand throated thrushes’ song,
springs forth from every dell,
within this land of fantasy.

A carpet laid of countless buds and bursting blooms.
The sun becomes a weaver, and there between each branch,
he draws swift shutters full of Light.
And from the emerald depths of nearby lake
there floats a lotus blossom fair ~
A dainty ship to hold thy form,
and waft ye forth upon some distant shore.

Enchantment reigns – and from her very court
comes and goes a host of tiny forms;
Each borne aloft by wings of dragon flies.
Each one with wand to grant thy every wish,
And from this fairyland I’ll woo thee
Thy fair caprice to tend thee in thy every wish,
with lute or harp, to wile away the idle hour.
And if my thoughts should stray to some unknown shore ~
too far from thee to touch or see;
Then may it be that fairy hands shall seek me out
and with thy fingers touch my brow;
A touch as light as any petal from a rose.

So would I then, in haste arise and gird my steed ~
to ride away upon the moor and fen.
Thy love will light my way more surely than
would all the moon and stars ~ until it is,
I’m home again.

Excerpt from The Anthenium