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Michael Field: Maidenhair


    Michael Field

    (Katherine Bradley: 1846-1914,
    Edith Cooper: 1862-1913)

    Plato of the clear, dreaming eye and brave
    Imaginings, conceived, withdrawn from light,
    The hollow of man's heart even as a cave.
    With century-slow dropping stalactite
    My heart was a dripping tedious in despair.
    But yesterday, awhile before I slept:
    I wake to find it live with maidenhair
    And mosses to the spiky pendants crept.
    Great prodigies there are--Johovah's flood
    Widening the margin of the Red Sea shore,--
    Great marvel when the moon is turned to blood
    It is to mortals, yet I marvel more
    At the soft rifts, the pushings at my heart,
    That lift the great stones of its rock apart.

    This poem is one of many published by the EServer, a nonprofit collective.