Merlin Speaks
Merlin Enchanted
Shrewd in investment of my arts,
Cold wisdom calculating profit and use,
The great grey overriders stood
Horsed in their passions
Waiting my word most carefully committed,
Tightly curbed.
Now given, at the last, command,
They ride ingathering
The previous lost chances of excess
So once and prudently refused:
And speed the straightest track
To light new beacons on the sun-bright hills.
Wisely or ill,
My passwords are revealed,
All hoards, all time’s trove swept
Gale torn by wild and wilder hunt
To underrun all-hallows in my head.
Nor can my undermind’s archaic script
(Grimoire of cunning) keep, abjure, or save
Such parts of self outcircled,
For in these urgent regions no writ runs
– Nor can my wand demand.
Clear as the running of the moondrawn tide,
The rip and top of all ebbs overrode, your voice
Calls out my spun-drift self to fly
High horsed, and with Her hell-bent hounds
Ride, override the storm crest countryside.
© The Estate of Ronald M. White
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