Skip to main content
Read page text
page 12
Collect for Purity I try to form prayer’s capital word On my tongue. O sweet imagination Give it shape enough! Love! Love should taste of something, The sea, I think, brined and unsteady, Of scale and deep and all we crawled out from. Of first day, the Spirit’s début, The frantic dove torn apart, Her feathers ash on Eden. Yet of that which we cannot speak We must pass over in silence – Selah! The Spirit itself maketh intercession for us With groanings Which cannot be uttered. 4
page 13
Fides Quaerens Am I required to believe In the uncorruption of saints, The Mother’s timeless womb? There is limit, even if limit Is never drawn. (I cannot Give an instance of every rule.) I don’t know what ‘believe in’ means In the vast majority of cases, Which is to say I think it enough To acknowledge glamour of words – Relic, body, bone – I think Mystery is laid in syllables, syntax, Miracle a kind of grammar, Milk to train the tongue. 5

Page Text

View plaintext

Collect for Purity

I try to form prayer’s capital word On my tongue. O sweet imagination Give it shape enough! Love! Love should taste of something, The sea, I think, brined and unsteady, Of scale and deep and all we crawled out from. Of first day, the Spirit’s début, The frantic dove torn apart, Her feathers ash on Eden. Yet of that which we cannot speak We must pass over in silence – Selah! The Spirit itself maketh intercession for us With groanings Which cannot be uttered.

4

read next page

My Bookmarks

Buy this Book
Skip to main content