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At The End Post by :itmask Category :Poems Author :Rachel Annand Taylor Date :November 2011 Read :3050

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At The End

The fiery permutations of the soul
Are infinite, but how to be revealed?
On what impassive matter must the whole
Inveterate coil of good and ill be sealed!
How much too simple all the tale of deeds
To pattern out these labyrinthine things,
These knots of bright unreason, ghostly bredes
Veiled weavers weave, moving with silver wings
Within the duskling sense. Most diverse visions
Their visionaries darkly reconcile
At one sad end. Fate's delicate derisions
Through the same hell of penance may beguile
Two women, who meet with alien eyes downcast;
Yet one stand first with Love, and one the last.

(The end)
Rachel Annand Taylor's poem: At The End

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The Soul Of Age The Soul Of Age

The Soul Of Age
I have seen delicate aged women wrought Most tenderly by Time, their passionate pastBy the wise vigils of forgiving thought Amerced of pain, mere beauty at the last.So may my soul be chaste, serene, enriched Like an Etruscan mirror one has foundIn kind oblivions, graciously bewitched With precious patinas, a various roundOf milky opal, or turkis, or emerald, Glistered with rubies faint and smoky pearls,Where swirls of incised pattern have enthralled Figures of sweet archaic gods and

The Change The Change

The Change
I spun my soul about with soft cocoons Of pleasure golden-pale. For me, for meWere precious things put forth by crescent moons, Of pearl and milky jade and ivory.Grave players on ethereal harpsichords, My senses wrought a music exquisiteAs patterned roses, all my life's accords Were richer, ghostlier than peacocks white.So in my paradise reserved and fair I grew as dreamlike as the Elysian dead;Until a passing Wizard smote me there, And suddenly my soul inheritedSome gorgeous