Is there a bush more commonplace than gorse,

So undemanding in its humble way,

So sturdy and compact, but with gold crowned?

In all the panorama, the concourse

Processional of Nature, grave and gay,

What is more constant e’en more lovely found?

The lilac and laburnum can endorse,

With fuchsia and the flaunting hedgerow may,

The truth that gemlike riches still abound,

And unexhausted is the welling source.

But of all things that grow and grace the sod

And glorify the regions of mankind,

None can more vivdly bring back to mind

The burning bush that thundered, “Here is God !”


Weekly Times     9.3.62