I Dreamed Of England Returned To Herself

I dreamed of England returned to herself
and the bitter knights reconciled;
Albion coming clear in the mists

and the cherry carol branching
and ah, the dream of the Rood
in jeweled bloom.

I will leap up to God my God
and see the angels rustling in the trees
where once the poet William Blake

fell to his knees and understood
that poetry is certain good
and illumination praise.

the sea of faith is verging in the dark
the poet soldiers mark their place
and turn again homeward

to the place they loved
the lanes all apple blossom filled
the lovely strand...

and all their words
are like a field

with madrigals strewn
and not cut down.
and not cut down.

and former wounds
burst into birdsong, flower
into the bridal tunes.

mary angela douglas 17 june 2017