Treasure Island

Peter Russell

(1921-2003 / Bristol)

Laurel In loving memory of Erica Marx

Never by lightning struck
The lovely lady Laurel stands -
Poets alone that green may pluck
And hold her Wisdom in their hands

Their seeing eye is single,
Their bodies full of light -
Spirit and Nature mingle
And generate delight

The wounded wounder suffers
But heals the sufferer;
Comforting words he offers
As suffering draws near

Mother and Father reconciled,
The Child within the rose;
Adam soiled and Eve defiled
Embrace eternal foes

Sweetness issues from the lion
Maggots like peacock's eyes
Or bees upon Mount Sion
That quell all human sighs

And all the while the Laurel,
A lovely Virgin stands,
Who shoots no earthly quarrel
But the green leaves in her hands.

Submitted: Tuesday, May 20, 2014

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