Westward of Carrick Roads the morning haze
Marries all open sea to open heaven;
Sweet waters, like a carpet of calm days,
Lie stretched below me—and still only seven!
The day not started—two hours more to dream
And gaze and hear them say one soft, bright air,
The sea-girt fields, the sea-gull’s far-off scream:
“We are the morning, brother, we are fair!”
Yes, you are fair! O world of woes untold,
Untellable, hold fast! appall, appall!
Life is the art of wisely growing old . . .
All I have felt, thought, said . . . and, after all,
O heart, still, still the same untutored boy!
O Christ, walk thou the waves of this mad joy!
“Short History of Theism”
(Source: Chapter II of Miracles by C. S. Lewis, London, 1947)
Since thinking began,
This creature called Man
Made use of it mostly for fancying folly.
He passed through an eerie, odd
Chopping up Monotheism to Poly-.
Then down, Gadareno,
Secure in his dream of resolving a poser,
He slithered and ran
From Poly- to Pan-
(Viz. Wordsworth, Blavatsky, Shaw, Buddha, Spinoza)
(For the seventy-fifth birthday of Walter de la Mare)
Sam, said a Chatterbox,
Mopser! But I said
Or ever language
Was joined in words,
From the trees, like birds.
Harped and carped
In the branches—met,
Chased, hopped, chattered
To cup her breast,
Vau wove Aleph
Down flew language
On earth from air—
And well you know it,
Young de la Mare!
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Short History of Theism
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