Awhirl before my eyes did swirl the sparks
As one by one the candles turned to smoke
And sitting there in silent, stillest dark,
A flicker burned within and I awoke.
I felt a pang for that dear body broke
That bled betwixt time and eternity.
It seemed I saw His image in the smoke
And felt my heart, too, fixed upon that tree.
Oh how I ached to join this agony!
Yet I, near sleeping, safely sat below.
I closed my eyes the better then to see
And hear the ever-present, past echo.
To wait in darkness was my only wish;
Now hidden, I wanted no light but His.
What should I be doing? Studying for my 20th Century Music History midterm.
What am I doing? Learning to write rondel poetry.
But, if I use the poetry (below) as a way to discuss the artistic philosophies in this class, does it count as studying?
“A Rondel to Order in Art”
It is ‘oft thought that to create
we must rebel against all rules
that only traditional fools
would think those the artist’s first mate,
That to follow them is to fate
ourselves to repeating the schools
and that if we are to create
we must forsake all former rules,
But order we must not equate
to primitive, unneeded, cruel
for it indeed is proved a tool;
to use, not recapitulate,
and in adapting, to create.