XX.
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| (Wood Anemone by Remo Savisaar) |
In which I would have
said thy name alone
Is the one secret
lying in Truth’s well,
Thy voice the hidden charm in every tone,
Thy face the heart
of every flower on earth,
Its vision the one
hope; for every moan
Thy love the cure! O sharer of the birth
Of little children
seated on thy knee!
O human God! I laugh
with sacred mirth
To think how all the laden shall go free;
For, though the
vision tarry, in healing ruth
One morn the eyes
that shone in Galilee
Will dawn upon them, full of grace and truth,
And thy own love—the
vivifying core
Of every love in
heart of age or youth,
Of every hope that sank ’neath burden sore!
~George MacDonald (from Somnium Mystici - Collected Poems II)
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