Friday, February 8, 2019

‘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!

No comments:

Post a Comment