Beautiful, my delight,
Pass, as we pass the wave.
Pass, as the mottled night
Leaves what it cannot save,
Scattering dark and bright.

Beautiful, pass and be
Less than the guiltless shade
To which our vows were said;
Less than the sound of the oar
To which our vows were made,—
Less than the sound of its blade
Dipping the stream once more.

“To be Sung on the Water”

Light from the planet Venus, soon to set,
Be with us.

Light, pure and round, without heat or shadow,
Held in the cirrus sky, at evening:
Accompany what we do.

Light, lacking words that might praise you;
Wanting and breeding sighs only.

from “Evening-Star”

Wortcunning I know;
Starcraft I can find;
But a vision of leechdoms
Has taken hold of my mind.

Where are they found?
Are they forbidden?
Deep in the ground
In a kitchen-midden

With danegelt abandoned?
Crossed by Pict swords?
Mixed up with runes?
Leaking out of word-hoards?

By the salt Saxon sea,
In the blue Druid glade
We shall find leechdoms.
( Don’t be afraid . . . )

“Leechdoms”

We have struck the regions wherein we are keel or reef.
The wind breaks over us,
And against high sharp angles almost splits into words,
And these are of fear or grief.

from “Zone”

The cold remote islands
And the blue estuaries
Where what breathes, breathes
The restless wind of the inlets,
And what drinks, drinks
The incoming tide;

Where shell and weed
Wait upon the salt wash of the sea,
And the clear nights of stars
Swing their lights westward
To set behind the land;

Where the clinging to the rocks
Renews itself forever;
Where, again on cloudless nights,
The water reflects
the firmament’s partial setting;

—O remember
In your narrowing dark hours
That more things move
Than blood in the heart.

“Night”

Caught in a corner of the past
Wherein we cannot even weep
We only ask
For present sleep

But the dream shoots forward to a future
We shall never see.

from “December Daybreak”

Soon fly the leaves in throngs;
O love, though once I lay
Far from its sound, to weep,
When night divides my sleep,
When stars, the autumn stream,
Stillness, divide my dream,
Night to your voice belongs.

from “Song for a Lyre”

                                                        Louise Bogan (1897-1970)

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Wendy Wilhelmie, Flute; Jason Sah, Viola; John Carrington, Harp;
Choral Arts; Robert Bode, Conductor (817k mp3)

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Wendy Wilhelmie, Flute; Jason Sah, Viola; John Carrington, Harp;
Choral Arts; Robert Bode, Conductor

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