From Lo! A child is born by Hugh MacDiarmid (1892-1978)
I thought of a house where the stones seemed suddenly changed
And became instinct with hope, hope as solid as themselves,
And the atmosphere warm with that lovely heat,
The warmth of tenderness and longing souls, the smiling anxiety
That rules a home where a child is about to be born.
The walls were full of ears. All voices were lowered.
Only the mother had the right to groan or complain.
Then I thought of the whole world. Who cares for its travail
And seeks to encompass it in like loving kindness and peace?
The full poem is available here.
The collected works of Hugh MacDiarmid are available here:
And a very happy Christmas.
Thanks for a year of humanity and stimulation.
And thank you for following, Kevin.
Have a very happy New Year and I look forward to catching up in 2015.