About This Book
An intimate collection of lyrical poems that weave dreamlike imagery, devotional longing, and quiet philosophical reflection. The speaker addresses a beloved presence and considers love as both gift and transformative occupation, often finding silence and music in place of conventional expression. Imagery moves between night, pastoral meadows, classical myth, and fogbound streets to explore memory, beauty, loss, and the creative impulse. Forms vary from short lyrics and sonnet-like pieces to longer idylls and mythic narratives, shifting voice between intimate address and contemplative reportage. The overall mood balances tenderness and austerity, repeatedly returning to themes of spiritual vision and the limits of language.
There are no trees so eloquent with wind
As poplars in the moon-mist of the dusk
When like a spirit that has slipt the husk
Among their heavenly crests its breath is thinned.
Their talk is of such high strange mysteries
They must commune in whispers lest weak men
Ere they are ripe for knowledge snatch again
The secret God has given to the trees.