Edwin Muir

(15 May 1887 – 3 January 1959 / Orkney / Scotland)


Poem by Edwin Muir

The rivulet-loving wanderer Abraham
Through waterless wastes tracing his fields of pasture
Led his Chaldean herds and fattening flocks
With the meandering art of wavering water
That seeks and finds, yet does not know its way.
He came, rested and prospered, and went on,
Scattering behind him little pastoral kingdoms,
And over each one its own particular sky,
Not the great rounded sky through which he journeyed,
That went with him but when he rested changed.
His mind was full of names
Learned from strange peoples speaking alien tongues,
And all that was theirs one day he would inherit.
He died content and full of years, though still
The Promise had not come, and left his bones,
Far from his father's house, in alien Canaan.

Comments about Abraham by Edwin Muir

  • Susan WilliamsSusan Williams (10/3/2015 1:46:00 PM)

    There doesn't seem to be a topic that Muir cannot lend his magic to and draw us into his land of wonder even so far away as Abraham(Report)Reply

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Read poems about / on: father, sky, house, water, journey, change

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003