‘The poet’s eye….doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven….
And give to airy nothing a local habitation and a name.’
A Midsummer Night’s Dream, William Shakespeare
I would to blend,
As the bard brings down and makes plain to me,
Lofty majestic heights,
With the little white flowers on my cherry tree,
I would sing again the old canticled tales,
And follow their tracks in the dust fall of verse and rhyme.
I from earth would reach to draw the map that leads to Thee.
O God of nature,
Thou art greater still than all Thou hast made:
Beauty so nearly worthy in its warp and wool of worship.
I do not confuse light and light’s shadow,
Nor You, who stand: over, above, apart,
And yet in all you have made.
Your art is artless,
Yet rises to beget
Dream and dreams of you in me,
Draws us on tip-toed genius to create,
To scratch and imitate
Our Father’s drawings and his play.
Elliott Tepper 2010