THE LAST DREAM OF VIRGINIA WOOLF

 

 

"Thinking of rodhodendron forests in Piccadilly" 

(Virginia Woolf)

"In broad nightlight 

                                  tonight

conversing with the realm of darkness

my words have taken in the colour

                                    of rhododendrons

bordering late-blooming paths, 

                                          abandoned castles,

mossy bridges where the crows

                             land and brood at sundown.

In broad-dimming nightlight

shall not come the moths

 to flit around the tired splendour

                              of my words,

words tinged with the pale pink

through which, oftentimes,

                    the faces of memory

entice Hebe into the forest of Elvedon,

faces as pure as the stork flight at dawn, 

                   faces that whisper me with voices

of blue-girl in darkness...

this is you around, Percival

this is you, Rhoda?.

faces that mutter me beyond any matter

through a seraphic language

                                   of wave or ringdove.

And I whisper back to them 

                        like buttlerflies smouldering

 in the candle flame to be ashes"