Avalon

I know four girls who might make queensIn timeless Avalon, and theyAnd I have had our fill of thisClock-heavy world. But I, alas,Am neither Arthur nor a king.Nor is there magic anywhere.

But let's not cry on that account.Clasp hands, shut eyes to form a ring,And dance until we all fall down.Perhaps a dizzy spell will doWhat magic can't and in a triceSwing wide the singing gates of gold.

Out from that burst of vertigoWhich numbs the sense of things that areWe five will sally forth and seizeThe dazzling sands that lie betweenThe orchard bowers of idlenessAnd the tough, salt-muscled sea.