‘In the Rows’

In the rows they stand,

Admiring the artistry

Of Gracious God:

Sweet basil and tarragon,

White mulberry, dark-red cherry,

And deep-shining elderberry;

Trees of black walnut and hickory,

Silken ears of corn

Near slender hanging pods

Of purple-hull peas;

There in the wild thrives

Calming milk thistle

And tangy muscadine;

In the kitchen lingers

The delightful smell

Of freshly baked bread -

Sourdough pancakes

Cooked on the cast iron griddle.

This great created world!

Suffused with Divinity,

Fed by the bright sun-fire

And the moonlight silver-mild

Flowing from the sky,

By the slimy-slick earthworm

Gliding through soil below,

By gifts from chicken, goose, and hog

Here in fair middle-earth;

The march of the seasons

They know right well

From budding boughs and slender stalks,

Harvest hues and flying fowl,

The turning constellations of the stars;

Warm and cold, storm and calm,

Are welcome when they come,

Things for praise and not for blame;

Its handsome fruit:

The kind, Christian man and maiden.

--

Holy Ælfred the Great, King of England, South Patron, pray for us sinners at the Souð, unworthy though we are!

Anathema to the Union!