Rhapsodomancy Ancient Divination by Poetry Verses

By Aster Alderdice

To see within poetry dream deeply of the fae, beauty, sorrow, melancholy and roses. Divination comes by entering and remembering.

This book is written for the Victorian lady who delights in the privacy of her chamber, a sanctuary devoted to the esoteric and the aesthetic, offering an intriguing tableau for one's imagination. Picture, if you will, an enclave that radiates a poetic blend of elegance and mystique. The walls are adorned with richly patterned floral wallpaper in muted tones of sage and blush, exuding an air of restrained opulence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dianthe Bells
• Release date: Sep 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223418610

Aster Alderdice

Adoring Souls will coddle their hearts with these love embers from Victorian highlands, heath and woods. The sweetness of violet sugar sometimes enters by way of fae and wisps. Take pleasure in the country fireside.

Book preview

The Oracle of Verse by Aster Alderdice (2023)

Secret Indulgences—Poetry Divination by Aster Alderdice (2023)

The Fae by Gertrude M. Faulding (1913)

Rhapsodomancy Rose Jar by Aster Alderdice (2023)

© Aster Alderdice (2023)

Published by Dianthe Bells 2023 (Australia)

Spirit that lurks each form within

Beckons to spirit of its kin;

Self-kindled every atom glows,—

And hints the future which it owes.

(Emerson)

Contents

Beneath the Hawthorn Bough

A Charm So Potent

Forest of Wild Thyme

Mad Merry Dreams of May-Time

Rhapsodomancy Rose Jar

To see within poetry dream deeply of the fae, beauty, sorrow, melancholy and roses. Divination comes by entering and remembering.

This book is written for the Victorian lady who delights in the privacy of her chamber, a sanctuary devoted to the esoteric and the aesthetic, offering an intriguing tableau for one's imagination. Picture, if you will, an enclave that radiates a poetic blend of elegance and mystique. The walls are adorned with richly patterned floral wallpaper in muted tones of sage and blush, exuding an air of restrained opulence.

The centrepiece of the chamber is a chaise longue, upholstered in velvet the hue of midnight, providing a sumptuous seat upon which she reclines as she delves into her cherished volumes of literature and the arcane. Beside the chaise longue stands an ebonised table of intricate carvings, upon which a collection of cherished tomes are meticulously arranged. Prominent among them are works by Coleridge, Blake, and a gilt-edged edition of the Tarot of Marseilles.

The room is softly illuminated by a crystal chandelier that dangles from a ceiling painted with a dreamlike fresco of celestial beings. A gilt-framed mirror stands in one corner, capturing the room's ethereal luminescence, and adding an air of spaciousness and light. When the day's light begins to wane, she may light a pair of candelabras, their silver arms shaped like serpents coiling towards the heavens, casting dancing shadows that animate the room's facets and recesses.

To one side, an exquisitely crafted mahogany escritoire houses her writing instruments: quills, ink pots, and parchment, where she pens her epistles and journal entries. Adjacent to it, an armoire of dark wood stands, its doors closed, but holding within it a myriad of secret delights: crystal balls, dried herbs, and other tools of divination.

On the window sill, a flourishing assembly of flora blooms in porcelain pots: orchids, lilies, and exotic ferns. The room's scents are a blend of lavender, rose, and sage, emanating from various sachets and vials discreetly placed around the room, enveloping her in an aura of tranquility and introspection.

Finally, by the hearth—which is often ablaze in the cooler months—sits a cushioned wingback chair, a matching footstool beside it. It is here that she occasionally retreats with a cup of herbal tea, as she communes with the elements and spirits, pondering the unfathomable mysteries of existence.

This chamber is a true embodiment of the lady's multifaceted soul—a sanctuary where she is free to explore the depths of her intellectual curiosity, spiritual yearnings, and aesthetic sensibilities. It is here that she is most authentically herself, unburdened by the expectations of the society that lies beyond its walls.

The Oracle of Verse

On a tempestuous evening, when the wind thrashed against the moor and the heavens wept, Eleanor found herself sequestered in her chamber, a sanctuary of dark mahogany and somber velvet. With a flickering candle by her side, she was in the throes of one of her secret indulgences—poetry divination. The anthology, well-worn and much beloved, lay open before her. The yellowed pages were stained by the touch of time, yet they held wisdom that was evergreen. This evening, as every evening, she besought the universe for answers, a glimpse into the cryptic pathways of destiny.

Speak to me, dear muses, Eleanor whispered, almost prayerfully. Her eyes were closed, her hand hovering above the pages of the book. When her soul resonated with a sense of divine receptivity, her fingers delicately touched the paper, like a