I watch the sweep towards Benbulbin,
from Ladies Brae,
of sheep hill, and cattle fold,
I listen to the wind that
at night can winter howl,
and summer can carpet, like a
bride and groom wedding view.
The climbers towards the hill,
the young trainee searching monks,
towards Horeb look,
that sweeps down towards
Drumcliffe.
For then I lift up,
mine eyes have seen,
hope and beauty,
faith and ballast,
and what I look towards now,
and forevermore,
can be Christ on water.
Advent waited to mature,
as waiting does,
like wine at Cana,
between sinner and saint,
and Mary's look of love,
and Christ waits on
the still soul.
Qui fecit caoelem et terrem.
Bernard Kennedy
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/advent-hymn-to-christ/
