today's poem(s)
Three Songs for King Leir
Ann Lauinger
Note: In Shakespeare's sources, the old king and his daughter survive.
1. Cordeilla
Where nothing grew I set a knot of herbs,
Wholesome plants -- hyssop, thyme, rue.
Afternoons, he dozes in the sweet air.
Against the stone walls I espaliered roses.
I have watched the bees, flashing gold
While he sleeps, halo his white hair.
Green throat of summer, you are only a flourish
Of my sole monarch, my familiar root.
Nothing begets in me; I am nothing's heir,
Impatient to come into my kingdom. When the bees,
Blurring like smoke, sail off to hive themselves
In oak, when soil and stone are laid bare
I seat him by the fire, steady the cup
As he drinks, rub his feet. Then there are
His hair and beard to trim, his nails to pare.
2. Leir
Unstring the harp
Beat the hedges
Rid me of the lark
Thrush linnet
They will not
Peace at my bidding
Their music kills me
Let fall
When I would sleep
The nightingale sings
No cause, no cause
Find out who taught her
Whip him straight
She should be Gorgon-voiced
So I a man of stone
Her music kills me
Let fall
He that catches me
A pair of crickets
To scrape their legs
When I am merry
Or a leathern bat
Shall squeak me lullabye
I will thank him
For my music
Let fall
3. Edgar
Who can I tell? I miss my disguises.
Simply myself, I shall never be as wise as
Poor Tom or as strong as the Black Knight
Avenging Father's eyes, thwarting his suicide.
My clumsy self, briefly without a part,
Blurted out truth and stopped the old man's heart.
I hereby vow, for all the old men's sake,
To banish truth. Life is a dream; we wake
Only to execution. The old king
Shall not so much as stub a toe. Nothing
Arresting, unyielding, not the mildest friction
Shall touch him. Grant me, gods, the gift of fiction.
Ann Lauinger
Note: In Shakespeare's sources, the old king and his daughter survive.
1. Cordeilla
Where nothing grew I set a knot of herbs,
Wholesome plants -- hyssop, thyme, rue.
Afternoons, he dozes in the sweet air.
Against the stone walls I espaliered roses.
I have watched the bees, flashing gold
While he sleeps, halo his white hair.
Green throat of summer, you are only a flourish
Of my sole monarch, my familiar root.
Nothing begets in me; I am nothing's heir,
Impatient to come into my kingdom. When the bees,
Blurring like smoke, sail off to hive themselves
In oak, when soil and stone are laid bare
I seat him by the fire, steady the cup
As he drinks, rub his feet. Then there are
His hair and beard to trim, his nails to pare.
2. Leir
Unstring the harp
Beat the hedges
Rid me of the lark
Thrush linnet
They will not
Peace at my bidding
Their music kills me
Let fall
When I would sleep
The nightingale sings
No cause, no cause
Find out who taught her
Whip him straight
She should be Gorgon-voiced
So I a man of stone
Her music kills me
Let fall
He that catches me
A pair of crickets
To scrape their legs
When I am merry
Or a leathern bat
Shall squeak me lullabye
I will thank him
For my music
Let fall
3. Edgar
Who can I tell? I miss my disguises.
Simply myself, I shall never be as wise as
Poor Tom or as strong as the Black Knight
Avenging Father's eyes, thwarting his suicide.
My clumsy self, briefly without a part,
Blurted out truth and stopped the old man's heart.
I hereby vow, for all the old men's sake,
To banish truth. Life is a dream; we wake
Only to execution. The old king
Shall not so much as stub a toe. Nothing
Arresting, unyielding, not the mildest friction
Shall touch him. Grant me, gods, the gift of fiction.