Circe's Isle

It is alone and quiet now-
That island where Circe reigned.
Where magic made the sailors bow
And their bodies become unchained,
There is only a lonely isle
Rushed round by waters that murmur the while,
Gleaming waters unstained.

It is like a blue-green jewel-
That island where Circe's spell
Held in thrall each tree and pool
And made the birdsong well
From tree and flower
Into sunlit paens of her power
That rang like a temple bell.

It is a soft and yearning place-
That island where Circe lived,
Where the very waves have grace,
And the sunrise is a gift
For what it reveals,
The hidden nooks of the dreaming eels,
From which the light may lift.

It is the color of ultramarine-
That island where Circe ruled.
As if to the colors of blue and green
The ruins of her home cooled
After the long magic
That produced results so strange and tragic,
Under her hand jeweled.

It is a little den of dreams-
That island which Circe held.
And there the sunlight gleams
With that light that dreams may meld
With the reality cold,
So that in some way Circe yet has her hold,
And all the power of eld

Goes blowing round the aqua isle-
That island where Circe smiled,
And where she smiles yet a while
And dances like a child,
To weave transformation
Of what is into what the imagination
Sees, the oldest dream and wild.