Phantasy

Elishah walked tonight, 
Silently, looking at the five days aged 
Crescent moon.
Hearing scorn of children's fright,
Undaunted, with the sweet melodies
Of Hero and Leander
Singing their hymns across the deep.

There they sing, as if Apollos and Calliope,
Betraying an innocence of a generation passing away.
A sweet, innocent narcissism,
Harmless and fully justified
For a generation whose brilliance
Shined brighter than the starry night.

The children scorned,
Yet the gentle woman came to mind;
Reacquainted once more
By the widow's stones
And the footprints upon the beach.
As if the Gentle woman were looking
For the agéd sun over the hoary foam 
And quieting noise.