It’s pouring rain here since before dawn. I love weather, and we’ve sure needed this rain – the entire Southeast has been under a miserable drought for over a year now – and hadn’t fully recovered from our last.
Twice – Christmas Night and this morning, I’ve heard thunder. The old wives’ tale down here is that if you hear thunder in a winter storm, you’ll have snow within ten days. Interesting.
I mentioned Leaves of Heaven in an earlier post – a happy “accident” if I’ve ever had one – and I thought perhaps a poem might be a nice thing to share –
Oscar Wilde is known for his delightful plays (The Importance of Being Ernest, among others) and, sadly, for his scandalous life. But before he died he did become a Catholic – and the following poem is his:
Come down, O Christ, and help me! reach Thy hand,
For I am drowning in a stormier sea
Than Simon on Thy lake of Galilee:
The wine of life is spilt upon the sand,
My heart is as some famine-murdered land
Whence all good things have perished utterly,
And well I know my soul in Hell must lie
If I this night before God’s throne should stand.
‘He sleeps perchance, or rideth to the chase,
Like Baal, when his prophets howled that name
From morn to noon on Carmel’s smitten height.’
Nay, peace, I shall behold, before the night,
The feet of brass, the robe more white than flame,
The wounded hands, the weary human face.