calypsogemini
To Gaia

First in my prayer, before all other deities,
I call upon Gaia, Primeval Prophetess …
The Greek great earth mother.”

-- Aeschylus

“I will sing of well-founded Gaia, mother of all, eldest of all beings. She feeds all creatures that are in the world, all that go upon the goodly land, and all that are in the paths of the seas, and all that fly: all these are fed of her store. Through you, O queen, men are blessed in their children and blessed in their harvests, and to you it belongs to give means of life to mortal men and to take it away.” — Homeric Hymn

An Offering to Venus.
by John William Godward

An Offering to Venus.

by John William Godward

Schott’s 1899 Walkure title

Schott’s 1899 Walkure title

The Ride of the Valkyrs (1909) by John Charles Dollman

The Ride of the Valkyrs (1909) by John Charles Dollman

The Sleeping Beauty
by William Arthur Breakspeare

The Sleeping Beauty

by William Arthur Breakspeare

Solstice Gathering by Anne Stokes

Solstice Gathering by Anne Stokes

Yuletide Angel by Anne Stokes

Yuletide Angel by Anne Stokes

The Haunted Palace. 1963.
Vincent Price

The Haunted Palace. 1963.

Vincent Price

The Haunted Palace

Eerie little poem by Edgar Allan Poe. Its “The Haunted Palace” which is featured in The Fall of the House of Usher (1839) by Poe.

In the greenest of our valleys
   By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace-
   Radiant palace- reared its head.
In the monarch Thought’s dominion-
   It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
   Over fabric half so fair!
Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
   On its roof did float and flow,
(This- all this- was in the olden
   Time long ago,)
And every gentle air that dallied,
   In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
   A winged odor went away.

Wanderers in that happy valley,
   Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically,
   To a lute’s well-tuned law,
Round about a throne where, sitting
   (Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well-befitting,
   The ruler of the realm was seen.

And all with pearl and ruby glowing
   Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,
   And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty
   Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
   The wit and wisdom of their king.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
   Assailed the monarch’s high estate.
(Ah, let us mourn!- for never morrow
   Shall dawn upon him desolate!)
And round about his home the glory
   That blushed and bloomed,
Is but a dim-remembered story
   Of the old time entombed.

And travellers, now, within that valley,
   Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms, that move fantastically
   To a discordant melody,
While, like a ghastly rapid river,
   Through the pale door
A hideous throng rush out forever
   And laugh- but smile no more.

The Mask of the Red Death
Harry Clarke 1919

The Mask of the Red Death

Harry Clarke 1919