Kathleen Jessie Raine(14 June 1908 - 6 July 2003 / London / England)
- by Kathleen Jessie Raine51
In my first sleep I came to the river And looked down Through the clear water - Only in dream Water so pure, Laced and undulant Lines of flow On its rocky bed Water of life Streaming for ever.
A house was there Beside the river And I, arrived, An expected guest About to explore Old gardens and libraries - But the car was waiting To drive me away.
One last look Into that bright stream - Trout there were And clear on the bottom Monster form Of the great crayfish That crawls to the moon. On its rocky bed Living water In whorls and ripples Flowing unbended.
There was the car To drive me away. We crossed the river Of living water - I might not stay, But must return By the road too short To the waiting day.
In my second dream Pure I was and free By the rapid stream, My crystal house the sky, The pure crystalline sky.
Into the stream I flung A bottle of clear glass That twirled and tossed and spun In the water's race Flashing the morning sun.
Down that swift river I saw it borne away, My empty crystal form, Exultant saw it caught Into the current's spin, The flashing water's run.
- by Kathleen Jessie Raine34
Yours is the face that the earth turns to me, Continuous beyond its human features lie The mountain forms that rest against the sky. With your eyes, the reflecting rainbow, the sun's light Sees me; forest and flower, bird and beast Know and hold me forever in the world's thought, Creation's deep untroubled retrospect.
When your hand touches mine it is the earth That takes me--the green grass, And rocks and rivers; the green graves, And children still unborn, and ancestors, In love passed down from hand to hand from God. Your love comes from the creation of the world, From those paternal fingers, streaming through the clouds That break with light the surface of the sea.
Here, where I trace your body with my hand, Love's presence has no end; For these, your arms that hold me, are the world's. In us, the continents, clouds and oceans meet Our arbitrary selves, extensive with the night, Lost, in the heart's worship, and the body's sleep.
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