“All was as it had ever been -
the worn familiar book
the oak behind the hawthorn seen,
the misty woodlands look:
The starling perched up on the tree
with his long tress of straw
when suddenly heaven blazed on me,
and suddenly I saw:
saw all as it would ever be,
in bliss too great to tell;
for ever safe, for ever free,
all bright with miracle.”
(Ruth Pitter)
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