LVI – First Reading

From whence it came I cannot know, that soul Immortal which sits your breast, descended So like an angel, full of pity To heal the heart & bless the earth. This alone enthrals me, and this alone I will love, and not your pretty face. Instead, I choose a love which won’t grow less For it fixes on the lasting good. And if, say, this form by chance should find New loveliness and grace come forth with age Then from the sheath I shall divine the knife – For my God never showed Himself more plain than in her form, and I in her see Him, so for this reason alone I will love.


Alex Marsh