A Sunday poem

Here’s a little poem I read in A.N. Wilson’s Biography of C.S. Lewis, that was written by Clive’s father Albert Lewis. Wilson calls Jack’s protrayal of his father in Surprised by Joy ‘devastatingly cruel’ and there is evidence that Albert was not quite such the buffoon that Jack writes him as. There is much that could be said about that, but I like this poem, and I quite share the sentiment. I hate the petty strifes of men Their ceaseless toil for wealth and power: The peace of God in lonely glen By whispering stream at twilight hour Is more to me than prelates’ lawn Than stainless ermine, gartered knee, I wait Christ’s coronation morn And rest, my God, through faith in Thee. And here’s an interesting little historical titbit about ermine fur if you, like me, are wondering why ‘stainless ermine’ is a phrase here:

The winter-taken pelts, prized for fineness and pure colour, are among the most valuable of commercial furs and are obtained mainly in northern Eurasia. During the reign of Edward III (1327–77) of England, the wearing of ermine was restricted to members of the royal family. Thereafter, state robes were constructed in such a way that in many cases the rank and position of the wearer could be determined by the presence or absence or disposition  of the black spots.

From Brittanica.com Also, I went hiking in the gorge shown above last Saturday. It was a good day.