The Peat Burns Brimming

Oh dear. It’s been too long.

September has been and gone, first in heavy rain and latterly in a succession of warm, sunshine-y days, a parting gift from the departed summer. Amongst other things, I’ve been to Northern Ireland and to Kent, and I’ve been adjusting to my new classes for this term. I’ve also been reading–of course! I’ve been dipping in and out of a collection of Lewis’ poems “and having a marvellous time”, as Fraulein Maria would say. (There are some gems, let me tell you, but since they’re all within copyright I can’t post them here.) I’ve read a book on punctuation (yes, you read that right), Surprised by Joy, and an L. M. Montgomery novel.

I’ve also been procrastinating on writing, as is all too obvious, although I did write two blog posts or want-to-be blog posts which, for one reason or another, I decided not to post. However, I’m here today to assure all 2.5 of my readers that I am alive and am planning to get back to a more regular blogging schedule….

In the meantime, I leave you with this beautiful Chesterton poem whose acquaintance I have just made:


The star-crowned cliffs seem hinged upon the sky,
The clouds are floating rags across them curled,
They open to us like the gates of God
Cloven in the last great wall of all the world.

I looked, and saw the valley of my soul
Where naked crests fight to achieve the skies,
Where no grain grows nor wine, no fruitful thing,
Only big words and starry blasphemies.

But you have clothed with mercy like a moss
The barren violence of its primal wars,
Sterile although they be and void of rule,
You know my shapeless crags have Wed the stars.

How shall I thank you, O courageous heart.
That of this wasteful world you had no fear;
But bade it blossom in clear faith and sent
Your fair flower-feeding rivers: even as here

The peat burns brimming from their cups of stone
Glow brown and blood-red down the vast decline
As if Christ stood on yonder clouded peak
And turned its thousand waters into wine.


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