The Sea to Venus
The sea that carried her
Cries
on the shore,
For that god married her
Who
lives for war
And
for no gorgeous limb
Can
keep in bed
But must make the sun dim
As
though it bled
And
the poor earth tremble
As
though afraid
When his troops assemble
To
ply their trade.
Those
waves whose shining spray,
Whose
curving sides,
Whose everlasting sway,
Whose
constant tides
Poured
glory, force and grace
To
round her form,
Those breasts and thighs, that face
That
stills the storm,
And
on a leaning breeze
Sent
her to land
That our loves woes and ease
Be
in her hand
As
once the fruit in Eves
For
which we fell;
That same sea groans and grieves
That
on its swell
Forge
fleets of conquerors,
Keel
after keel
Whose wake is cankerous
And
does not heal.
The
waves break white and green
With
ceaseless sound
Sent to the gentle queen
They
ran aground:
Deliver
us from Mars,
No
more a knight
A babys body chars
To
show his right.
No
hero with a face
To
face down death,
Even the cold of space
Chills
to his breath.
Deliver
us from Mars,
Queen
of delight,
Whose arms would blot the stars.
Hold
him tonight
And
fold him in your rose
Where
courage learns
The greater hearts are those
Where
great love burns.
John
Gibbens, from The Promise
Back
to the present
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