A poem for the Venus Cazimi in Libra
Hail unto thee, Venus in conjunction:
holding one side of the balance of Scales;
and to thee, Sun, who gives the soul unction,
whose sweet generosity never fails!
Laughing queen, you whisper in your lord’s ear,
and show him the pretty things you desire:
honor, and respect, and kind attention,
happy children, soft hands, days without fear,
good food, sturdy nest, and a warming fire
that feeds harmony, despite contention.
The Sun obeys his mistress in such times,
nor dares to shut her out from all she seeks.
He flourishes more in her temp’rate climes.
For in her Martial spats she sometimes breaks,
railing against both the cage and the scourge,
the surgeon’s knife, the doctor’s apathy,
and every wolf-call that the street-scrub howls!
The chains and the bed, made in Vulcan’s forge,
are changed to mere costume and phantasy;
agreement replaces commanding growls.
One point of the star of mortal desire
Is now once again in ladylike hands —
shining, gleaming, a radiant fire
like a new-cut diamond on whitened sands.
Stand tall, great lady, and whisper again:
give voice to what women say when alone,
or making wishes the Cosmos might send.
Make boys more eager to be kinder men
In whom the virtues of love are known,
finishing, in love, what they first intend.
