after the fall

After the fall
the dawn came in
wreathed like a bride,
swan’s down on snow’s breath,
cloud’s crest on hoar hill,
white on white on white,
new shines the land-light,
and white the revelation
descended, new-drifted,
from clouds clear
and topazine.

The world again.

How unfamiliar it seems,
he cataract sky,
the half-white trees
pointed in lightness
and pure crystal brightness.
The paths are gone,
the land as new as
where no foot trod,
only the sheer expanse
of oblivious whiteness
holds close the brilliant day;
and i draw on the blankness,
the newness,
the ethereal lightness,
and imagine a new soul
tabula rasa,
erased and re-erased.
God, to be remade
Like the day at dawning
When the quiet light comes
And steals the night away!
To be white as the new fallen,
heaven-light angel-drifted snow,
to be new and to
wonder at the wonder,
at the transforming,
to sleep and be changed
by the pale winter morning
and to dream, to hope,
to say, that the dream
would come and stay at last
this morning
after the fall.

The whiteness of a whale,
breaking new stars
in sheer waters,
the whiteness rising
and fair stars singing
in the broad tree of heaven,
blazing like Blake’s angels
out on Peckham rye,
singing from the firmament
of his fathomless,
prophetic eye.
This pure white vision
overthrows me,
lifts me and transports me
out beyond this ordinary,
extraordinary day,
snow-blind apparitions
move me,
as faith moves the
immovable foundations
of the world
in tectonic shifts of spirit,
falling like new snow
at midnight,
to be transformed
by dreams of love
that will not depart,
that will not
let us go.


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