A Bit of Literary Culture

...just because I feel like it. :)

This is a poem called The Hound of Heaven.  It's a little heavy on the poetic words--like "plashy"--but I do love it; especially the last verse, where Christ, the loving Hunter, speaks to the poet's soul:

"Seeing none but I makes much of Naught" (He said).

"And human love needs human meriting ---
How hast thou merited,
Of all Man's clotted clay, the dingiest clot.
Alack! Thou knowest not
How little worthy of any love thou art.
Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,
Save me, save only me?
All which I took from thee, I did'st but take,
Not for thy harms,
But just that thou might'st seek it in my arms.
All which thy child's mistake fancies as lost,
I have stored for thee at Home.
Rise, clasp my hand, and come."

Halts by me that Footfall.
Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?

"Ah, Fondest, Blindest, Weakest,
I am He whom thou seekest.
Thou dravest Love from thee who dravest Me."

It's enough to make you wish you could write poetry, isn't it?  I can't; my writing bent doesn't bend that way--I tend to want to throw in some characters and dialogue and swordfights and things--but I like reading other people's poetry.

I'll write a cute-kids post here pretty soon; at the moment I'm about to go to bed, and this poem was on my mind.

Cheers,

Breanna