Ode to Imagination

Ode to Imagination

My seed twinges, as an odd melancholy blooms,

Tis me, cruelly hoaxed by the ancient Deity,

With a soul full of scars,

Settling down to this meek ode.



On a noon, when Thy Master shoneth bright,

Fair Maiden of Olympus! Thou hadeth come,

Hiding in the Shroud of a ravishing landscape,

The terrain, for Styx's sake, I hadeth so longed to see.



The ancient Dales of Arcady layest forth,

Muses and Naiads rompingest by the domain of Poseidon,

Darkness, in the disguise of Light prevaileth,

Dryads and Nymphs, to singest songs sweet.



Hail Thee! Fair Youth! What games doth exist,

To be playedeth so zestly by the Muses?

What Olympian dulcimer and lyre beingest played,

By Eros and His faithful Apostles?



O Immortal Soul! What trees are these,

Of Spring leaves and golden flowers?

What River doth gently floweth,

Through the green fields of Arcady?



O Golden Deer of Artemis's pride!

Silver Felicitations! Tis Love now curiously ponderest over my corals,

Thine Landscape, ever so merry and forlorn,

With fountains of gold, shrines and temples?



No O Goddess, No! Pray, leavest not!

For the Sword doth not bade adieu,

Sweet Melancholy and Gloom shalt playeth,

In this ode of clean elation.



Thou may leavest, O Deity! But pray, leavest not with Thy compulsive Shroud,

That smellest of violets, Life, incense and moments sweet,

Luring this mind of mortal zeal,

As the riveting Fruit from Persephone's.



I am obliged, O Mighty Jester,

Tis Thy grace that coaxed the Sword to speakest,

Thou shalt leavest, but this hymn shalt singest,

The song of Thy fair terrain.



Farewell, Gentle Mind, Farewell!

For Zeus's sake, perceivest,

Thou art the Queen of the Skies, Mistress of the Sea,

Thou art, Imagination.