Ode to a Clownfish -
Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
With silence and slow time,
Who canst thou express
A flowery tale more sweetly than rhyme:
What legends haunt about thy thoughts
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Miami or the island seas
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What wild ecstasy? What passions?
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter: therefore, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal - yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Ah, happy, happy thoughts! that cannot be shed
And, happy mermaid, unwearied,
Old songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and static,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity Cold wind!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
"Beauty is truth, truth is beauty," - that is all
You know on earth, and all you need to know.
---
an adaptation of the John Keets classic, may he have mercy on my soul.
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