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Diddily Dee Dot's Dreamland for Children Everywhere
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Sun, 07 Mar 2010
Monty has a Magical new addition to his webpage, here in Dreamland, it is all about a young blind girl and a king.

 

The King and the Blind Girl.roses scent the
earth

 By a fountain in a garden there's a throne without a king and although roses scent the air there are no birds to sing.

For all the birds have flown away to search for hidden treasure. A blind girl wanders on the lawn, barefoot for her pleasure; 

She feels the daisies with her toes, the buttercups and marigolds,she hears the crystal fountains sing - ancient hymns and madrigals.

But silver tears softly fall from her curtained eyes and 'neath her crown of golden curls her lips release soft sighs.

"The birds, the birds," she speaks aloud, "the birds have stolen the King - the flowers mute, the roses deaf, the fountain only, sings..."

Against the empty throne she leans, pensive, full of woe til o'er her wilting head, unseen, there arcs a pale rainbowthat fall before her feet debouching strands of entwined colour and streaming down the rainbow's length,

Scores of birds that chirp and tweet, their feathers all of tinted hues their beaks all full of glitter and from their throats spring forth true songs full of fairie glamour!

In a cloud of coloured wings, crimson, gold and silver, emerald and tourmaline and frosted mint of aquamarine they lift the gold-haired maid aloft and fly towards the river.

There, upon a swan-winged boat the king lays strangely sleeping and on the mossy, bullrushed banks small animals are weeping. The blind girl touched his care-lined face, she touchA Swaned his bearded lips, she lay her body next to his and gently kissed his fingertips.

Then seven rainbow-coloured swans swam before the King's death-boat and bore it through the evening skies - but to what cosmic bourne they swam, none can claim to be that wise!

Perhaps the birds might have a clue but they have also vanished. Where poetry and magic meet bare truth must sometimes languish.

Kings fountainBy a fountain in a garden there's a throne without a king and although roses scent the air there are no birds to sing for all the birds have flown away to search for hidden treasure.

Of Mystery there is no end, it has no root or measure.

              Willowdown Manila. 1997





Posted 19:30

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