A poem by Francis Thompson
Saturday 3 March 2018 by Ad Taylor-Weekes
What heart could have thought you? –
Past our devisal
(O filigree petal!)
Fashioned so purely,
Fragilely, surely,
From what Paradisal
Imagineless metal,
Too costly for cost?
Who hammered you, wrought you,
From argentine vapour? –
“God was my shaper.
Passing surmisal,
He hammered, He wrought me,
From curled silver vapour,
To lust of His mind: -
Thou couldst not have thought me!
So purely, so palely,
Tinily, surely,
Mightily, frailly,
Inscupled and embossed,
With His hammer of wind,
And His graver of frost.”
