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About Dissolution of Marriage, Wordsworth, Travel Studies, & Falling In Love with Oneself
Mary Swanzy, Cubist Landscape, 1928.
https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/art-and-design/visual-art/mary-swanzy-from-strait-laced-girl-to-first-irish-cubist-1.3753708
Nine Lonely Winds
Nine lonely winds blew over skies/ to call a mind and heart,/ where down beneath pastoral lies;/ the woman kept her part.
In staying on for morning light/ and silent to the earth;/ she did prefer to keep the night,/ long for a day of mirth.
No woman breathes until she sigh,/ to loose a husband’s hand./ His love would ever wander nigh,/ could she but love his land.
Her dreams abode in snowy fields/ and there did wait for spring;/ his touch would force her spirit yield,/ their longing yet took wing.
To linger for dark seasons long;/ would he attend her way,/ but mind and heart began a song/ until it reached the day.
He knew not what the lonely do,/ their powers to behold;/ for he would keep their breezes too,/ their meaning never told.
And so she sings upon what hill,/ the wood she cannot find;/ where brooks and ferns forever still:/ the things she leaves to bind.
A sorrow nests the birds to fly;/ their broken will she tends./ To them she makes her lullabies,/ in minds and hearts to mend.
Nine lonely winds blow over skies/ they chance upon her arts,/ where high above pastoral lies;/ a woman takes her part.
Copyright: Wise Welsh Witch, 2006
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By Whimsy, Wit, & Wisdom for a Weary WorldMary Swanzy, Cubist Landscape, 1928.
https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/art-and-design/visual-art/mary-swanzy-from-strait-laced-girl-to-first-irish-cubist-1.3753708
Nine Lonely Winds
Nine lonely winds blew over skies/ to call a mind and heart,/ where down beneath pastoral lies;/ the woman kept her part.
In staying on for morning light/ and silent to the earth;/ she did prefer to keep the night,/ long for a day of mirth.
No woman breathes until she sigh,/ to loose a husband’s hand./ His love would ever wander nigh,/ could she but love his land.
Her dreams abode in snowy fields/ and there did wait for spring;/ his touch would force her spirit yield,/ their longing yet took wing.
To linger for dark seasons long;/ would he attend her way,/ but mind and heart began a song/ until it reached the day.
He knew not what the lonely do,/ their powers to behold;/ for he would keep their breezes too,/ their meaning never told.
And so she sings upon what hill,/ the wood she cannot find;/ where brooks and ferns forever still:/ the things she leaves to bind.
A sorrow nests the birds to fly;/ their broken will she tends./ To them she makes her lullabies,/ in minds and hearts to mend.
Nine lonely winds blow over skies/ they chance upon her arts,/ where high above pastoral lies;/ a woman takes her part.
Copyright: Wise Welsh Witch, 2006