The Confirmation
Yes, yours, my love, is the right human face.
I in my mind had waited for this long,
Seeing the false and searching for the true,
Then found you as a traveller finds a
Of welcome suddenly amid the
Valleys and rocks and twisting roads.
But you,
What shall I call you?
A fountain in a waste,
A well of water in a country dry,
Or anything that's honest and good, an
That makes the whole world seem bright.
Your open heart,
Simple with giving, gives the primal deed,
The first good world, the blossom, the blowing seed,
The hearth, the steadfast land, the wandering sea.
Not beautiful or rare in every part.
But like yourself, as they were meant to be.
Edwin Muir
Other author posts
Reading in Wartime
Boswell by my bed, Tolstoy on my table; Thought the world has bled For four and a half years, And wives' and mothers' tears Collected would be able To water a little field Untouched by anger and blood,
The Killing
That was the day they killed the Son of On a squat hill-top by Jerusalem Zion was bare, her children from their Sucked by the dream of
Merlin
O Merlin in your crystal Deep in the diamond of the day, Will there ever be a Whose music will smooth
The Incarnate One
The windless northern surge, the sea-gull's scream, And Calvin's kirk crowning the barren brae I think of Giotto the Tuscan shepherd's dream, Christ, man and creature in their inner day