In Piam Memoriam

Geoffrey Hill

Created purely from glass the saint stands,

Exposing his gifted quite empty hands

Like a conjurer about to begin,

A righteous man begging of righteous men.

In the sun lily-and-gold-coloured,

Filtering the cruder light, he has endured,

A feature for our regard; and will keep;

Of worldly purity the stained archetype.

The scummed pond twitches. The great holly-tree,

Emptied and shut, blows clear of wasting snow,

The common, puddled substance: beneath,

Like a revealed mineral, a new earth.

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