The Thinking Poet


Glory - A Psalm

Glory; abounding glory!

Glory; unending, ever assuming a shifting, beauteous face.

For weeks I have watched from these closed habitual walls

Gazing like a mariner through bowed panes

Searching for some sight of saving shore

Sagging with the weight of pain

Yet sustained by glory.


The daffodil bank I have watched, like a passing procession

Slowly spreading, flowing gold.

Each green blade unfolding its promised story

Six-petalled stanzas of infinite form

Gathered now, a collective act of praise.


And as their magic dies, for all moments are numbered,

The damson decks each branch in silken, silver dress,

And urges them to dance.

Then pear and apple put on petal blushed with pink

And join the invitation irresistible

To dance, dance, dance.


Even the magnolia,

Chastened, blighted, browned by kill-joy frost

Draws strength to bear fresh petal life.

It hovers over bluebell beds now thrusting,

Gathered where the hedgers, short-while, trod.

That was when the cast shadows fell.


Glory, abounding glory!

Unstoppable, untiring is the march of Spring

Which I, through drooping eyelids, now suck in,

Desperate to imbibe redeeming life.