Today I Found a Poem From Long Ago… On “Thoughts in Castledillon”

castledillon

Having had a particularly wretched ‘flu’ in recent times, I was unable to go beyond these four walls and so, on slow recovery, took the opportunity to sort through some old documents and other personal items which have been lying for a long time. I discovered a diary (dated 1972) but that is a little story for another day. There were also some letters, including a very encouraging one from my Dad to my husband and me, complete with wonderful Bible references… and then I spotted it: a poem that I had written a very long time ago. Strangely I had forgotten all about it, this little poem which was chosen for inclusion in an anthology produced by Northern Ireland Libraries nearly forty years ago.

I have always appreciated and been touched by God’s creation… and then one wonderful evening I came to know Him as my Lord and Saviour. On the theme, once more, of the deity of Jesus, I love these verses: “God who at sundry times and in diverse manners spake in times past unto the fathers by the prophets, Hath in these last days spoken to us by his Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things, by whom also he made the worlds; Who being the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person, and upholding all things by the word of his power, when he had purged our sins, sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high;” (Hebrews 1v1-3)

In this little poem I refer to Castledillon, a (now derelict) large mansion overlooking a lovely lake. In my youth I spent many happy days and evenings there, admiring the Lord’s creation – and in time being overwhelmed by the wonder that He had sent His only Son to die for me, so undeserving of His mercy. Praise God He is still my Refuge and my Confidante to this very day….

Thoughts in Castledillon

You – who sit behind the desk,

With doubts and worries and frowns grotesque;

Come with me to a different world,

Where a new philosophy lies unfurled.

 

Let me take you by the hand,

And lead you through the winter land;

Past an ivy-covered wall

And down a path where chestnuts fall.

 

We’ll walk until we reach a road,

Where once the Lord of the Manor strode

To his lonely mansion beyond the trees,

That are bared to sculptures by winter’s breeze.

 

Come with me to the shimmering lake,

And let that inner peace awake,

Watch the fire of the setting sun,

Glowing amber on the bleak horizon.

 

Across the silken waters of twilight,

We’ll see a swan in purest white,

Or hear a water-hen flapping wings,

Or a bird of dusk, as it sweetly sings.

 

We’ll watch each precious leaf to fall

Upon the lake that mirrors all:

The ancient trees, the setting sun,

And the gentle moon when day is done.

 

Now let your silver tears be lost,

Amongst the grass of glistening frost.

Come, talk to the One who created all –

Come let your burdens slip –

And fall.

© Elizabeth Burke

 

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