“Form”, a poem by Eva Gore-Booth

The buried statue through the marble gleams,

Praying for freedom, an unwilling guest,

Yet flooding with the light of her strange dreams

The hard stone folded round her uncarved breast.

Founded in granite, wrapped in serpentine,

Light of all life and heart of every storm,

Doth the uncarven image, the Divine,

Deep in the heart of each man, wait for form.

(– Oxford Book of Mystical Verse, ed. D.H.S. Nicholson & A.H.E. Lee. Oxford, 1917, 1962)

(Originally posted: February 21, 2010)


About negxl1

Rocks interest me; some fascinate me.
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