THE LAST FURROW
(On Edward Calvert’s Woodcut)
AND suddenly my field was Heaven:I saw a shepherd standOn the edge of my ploughed land,And every dusty furrow shone with gold.And every leaf and blade of grassWhose common loveliness I had let passNow did unfoldNew beauties to my sight.God was that Shepherd garmented in light.And there was singing:In a beechen woodThree maidens stoodAnd with their music praised GodIn a sweet and pleasant hymn.They danced, three maidens white and slimA measure, delicately trod.He loves no sad austerities,God is well praised by nymphs beneath the trees.My field was Heaven.An angel spedWith a bright bolt, and pierced the Serpent’s head,Satan is under heel. Good beasts, enthralled,Velvet mole, and leathern wing,Worm with fiery sting,And every noisome slug that crawledAre all set free. God is not in some alien place.In my ploughed field I saw the brightness of his face.
AND suddenly my field was Heaven:I saw a shepherd standOn the edge of my ploughed land,And every dusty furrow shone with gold.And every leaf and blade of grassWhose common loveliness I had let passNow did unfoldNew beauties to my sight.God was that Shepherd garmented in light.And there was singing:In a beechen woodThree maidens stoodAnd with their music praised GodIn a sweet and pleasant hymn.They danced, three maidens white and slimA measure, delicately trod.He loves no sad austerities,God is well praised by nymphs beneath the trees.My field was Heaven.An angel spedWith a bright bolt, and pierced the Serpent’s head,Satan is under heel. Good beasts, enthralled,Velvet mole, and leathern wing,Worm with fiery sting,And every noisome slug that crawledAre all set free. God is not in some alien place.In my ploughed field I saw the brightness of his face.
AND suddenly my field was Heaven:I saw a shepherd standOn the edge of my ploughed land,And every dusty furrow shone with gold.And every leaf and blade of grassWhose common loveliness I had let passNow did unfoldNew beauties to my sight.God was that Shepherd garmented in light.
And there was singing:In a beechen woodThree maidens stoodAnd with their music praised GodIn a sweet and pleasant hymn.They danced, three maidens white and slimA measure, delicately trod.He loves no sad austerities,God is well praised by nymphs beneath the trees.
My field was Heaven.An angel spedWith a bright bolt, and pierced the Serpent’s head,Satan is under heel. Good beasts, enthralled,Velvet mole, and leathern wing,Worm with fiery sting,And every noisome slug that crawledAre all set free. God is not in some alien place.In my ploughed field I saw the brightness of his face.