Batwings (A Limnal Hymn)

(The key to joy is disobedience

There is no guilt and there is no shame)

A moon-piece to fetch up the golden cup

A snow-piece to avoid the great heat of the sun

Is kept in the night and by the light of the moon

An ice-piece so as they seem forever fallen

A night-piece of the dismal supper and strange entertainment

A rare chance-piece, a handsome piece of deformity

The skin of a snake bred out of the spinal marrow of a man

With stones and illegible inscriptions found about great ruins

Pictures of three remarkable steeples, or towers

Built purposely awry, so as they seem eternally tipping and falling

A transcendent perfume made of the richest odorates

Kept in a box of translucent scale

A glass of spirits made of ethereal salt, hermetically sealed up

Kept continually in quicksilver, of so volatile a nature

That it will scarcely endure the light

And therefore only shown in winter

Or by the light of a carbuncle, or a firefly

And batwings

And batwings

And batwings sing this limnal hymn

A wideness opening and closing to keep the darkness sealed within

To keep the darkness sealed within

To keep the darkness sealed within

To keep the darkness sealed within

A moon-piece to fetch up the golden cup