The Vision Splendid

The sun shines on the whole shape,
each tree, each flower itself,
whether enormous
or a delicate viola,
blissful to contemplate.

How distressed I was
when the sight from my balcony
of that sycamore I called Ygdrasil
was blocked by a narrow house
thrust up between by a developer.

The lust for the whole is overwhelming.
Now I can't see it,
I must console myself
that the tree is still there and I can go
and bow to it in the park,

just as when sight of utopia,
that kind place for all, is
lost, mocked, dismissed
by thrusting dominations,
faith must not fail.

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Dinah Livingstone collection: The Vision Splendid