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Sonnet 43 'Her Presence Was Always A Quiet Glow'

Her Presence always was a quiet glow,
A morning all the day, and through the night.
And, while she slept, white radiance did show
Uplifted from the earth, her form grown light.
Like her, Spring spills forth waking on all things,
On sleeping hills, on nascent pomegranate,
On curling bear-cub, everything that sings!
And curled-up leaves, yawn, stretch, embrace bright  planet!
There is an Allness, newly on the air
That lacked before... a Presence of Christ rises
And wicked things come over, once laid bare
To new humility, which small things prizes. 
Like her, Spring gently calls a man, 'Awake!'
Who always let her sleep, for Love's sweet sake.

Copyright © Andrew Fairchild