The Dance of Midnight Noon

+JMJ

The Dance of Midnight Noon

By Caitlin Clancy

Copyright 2012

The moon

Upon the silver lake

Bids the mid-night

Faeries wake –

Softly, softly!

Stir no leaf –

Bring no mortals

To our heath!

So whisp’ring wind

Wisps and blows

The beam-bathed waves

Where there grows

A dance, a hunt,

A play, a thrill –

Solemn, silent,

Silent, still.

There comes no sound

Of lathe or bill,

Yet war is fought

On yonder hill

And on the beam-bathed

Bath of beasts

The light-foot nymphs

Of woodlands feast

They drink the moon

And take the dark

And rest white hands

On willow-bark;

Ten thousand ships

They launch and glide

In the breath of

Even-tide [1]

And noiseless knock

And break and hark –

The fight is long

While it is dark.

But soon the waning,

Sleeping spark

Of northern star

Fades in the arc

Of coming grey

And fading moon –

The last farewell

Of midnight noon.

And as the dark

Becomes the light

The mortal’s day

Becomes their night

And all is as

It was before –

Save the whisper,

Evermore:

Softly, softly!

Stir no thought –

Lest those of mortal flesh

Be brought.

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[1] Refers both to evening – or night in this case – and also to the calm “tide” of the lake.