Aswim at the source of the Thames
airy Campion cut his lute,
swanning to the capital, head high
for the season of learning song.
Each syllable slips downstream,
bound in sound a fleet afloat
for the abundance of invention
on the sunlight river gleaming.
Now winter nights enlarge
and I’ve given the day to Campion,
played chess across the chordophone
living in a song, Amaryllis let’s say.
Kelvin, how can you live in a song?
My head’s hidden in the sound box,
I think with my fingers, the words just come
and glide where Campion cut his lute.
The music: sing I Care Not For These Ladies but not necessarily in the counter-tenor voice.
Copyright Kelvin Corcoran 2013