Eurydice

I

She is prodigal, it is true; for she is beautiful and the violinist’s light, yellow amber, blue and gold, able to lure a wide-eyed animal, a rose-flanked child, young and naked and fresh as the new moon.

II

She is no more hero, she is now as her lover strides back to the gate through the dark of getting her into black night; love, when it is true, makes foolish the wise, vapid the intelligent; in diadems of forest, were there rumour of another love, or wisdom could only murder the murmur of a heart;

III

I went to the hills, only to find the gleam of the fountain and violins, take the mirth of song;

he thought of me, foolishly, long might I stay in the forest when the seeds plead;

he is trying to win me back and I am wandering, wondering the colours, playing the violin of dreams.

IV

Will shadows grow in the fold, and will love turn cold, can I keep him close, or, like gold, for gold, will the touch of a string retire?

• HD