How the eye’s happy holding Early light, bright-shafting over The chapel, igniting late leaves, Embers among the conifers. How the windows fill with colour As empty houses glad-glow With heaven treasure; The world’s Lamp lit, in patient advance. How gentle grows the pail gold, Drawing out the good bearing On all creatures; a kinder wordRead more
Cold blue curtains rise off dappled slate, Where winds blow west out the mountain gate, Up calm country tall and set adrift Light thoughts, air here thin enough to lift.
Give me grey sheets, streams on streams, Rivers vertical in reams; Colours warm descending round, Blankets strewn about the ground; Death on death, browns and golds, Forests bursting at the folds; Tables full with laugher loud, The meek, the most, the small, the proud; Hands for prayer and tears for thanks, Friendly commune without ranks;Read more
The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork. Day to day pours out speech, and night to night reveals knowledge. There is no speech, nor are there words, whose voice is not heard. Their voice goes out through all the earth, and their words to the end of theRead more
Two horses by the gate, cross-necked, One earthen brown the other creme, Stand watching withered leaves sun-wrecked On branches nearing winterlean; Two horses lit by morning lamp, One younger by four years or so, Still, listening in late summer’s damp For what the elder knows will grow; Two horses in the green, streamed field,Read more
Every rock’s a throne on The Tyrrhenian Sea Where the blue court waits Indiscriminately On every man, a king, Rich as any could be Honoured and guarded by The sentry of Capri. Every rock’s a throne on The Tyrrhenian Sea But should the azure Beckon such kings to free Their seats, and swim beyond, MereRead more
I woke up in a cloud where The only stirred creatures rose Higher, broader in the closed World, open in worship over-dew. The long summer’s spent, now Only the rooster (by faith) Joins in prayer, even he half-fooled By the veil over valley thrown.
With thunder round about The tiny pilot brings Treasure from flower to flout On beating, blurry wings. In scale she may be slight, Her movement hardly heard, But none’s so swift in flight, As lightening; Hummingbird.
Lord let the sun Be as bright As the amber Street light that I might trust in The morning What I know by The evening.
The grey kirk, that old yard of reformation Lies still but for a gull’s dawn supplication As no more rises from our white bricked up stack But my window breath and a hope to call back Where the Firth wind blows off the green kingly seat Down into kind kirk halls where song and prayerRead more