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“The Physician's Pageant by Stewart Stafford Can aught endure the masquerade Of this world's blindfolded night? Melancholy's strike doth calm the raving, As babes roused from stillbirth in fledgling light. We know that the womb doth wander, Around the body, causing ills without care, A pessary's charm doth anchor it in place again, As bait doth lure the quarry to the snare. Burn sulfur, rosemary, lavender and juniper, Or foul dung smoke to cleanse tainted rural air. Light aromatic torches in the playhouse and market, Let vile odours and miasmas in these spaces beware. Though ragged contagion and death still doth assail, God willing, some blessed souls still shalt prevail. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” — Stewart Stafford
The Physician's Pageant by Stewart Stafford
Can aught endure the masquerade
Of this world's blindfolded night?
Melancholy's strike doth calm the raving,
As babes roused from stillbirth in fledgling light.
We know that the womb doth wander,
Around the body, causing ills without care,
A pessary's charm doth anchor it in place again,
As bait doth lure the quarry to the snare.
Burn sulfur, rosemary, lavender and juniper,
Or foul dung smoke to cleanse tainted rural air.
Light aromatic torches in the playhouse and market,
Let vile odours and miasmas in these spaces beware.
Though ragged contagion and death still doth assail,
God willing, some blessed souls still shalt prevail.
© 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.