FOR HIS CHAIR
When in this Chair you Rest, my Child,
Let all your Thoughts be Kind and Mild,
Your Face and Hands quite Neat:
Rise up until your Elders sit,
Seek not to Show a Saucy Wit,
Nor all you Hear Repeat.
About This Book
A lyrical collection of short poems that moves between domestic intimacy and mythic or maritime imagery, often meditating on motherhood, childhood, sleep, and loss. The pieces range from direct child songs and brief quatrains to sonnets, hymns, odes, and narrative ballads, and include themed sequences such as child songs and a set of Iseult poems. Language favors simple, musical phrasing and quiet introspection, balancing tenderness and elegy with occasional folktale drama. Recurring motifs of nature, the sea, and longing knit the diverse pieces into a cohesive emotional landscape.