For Care of the Living Truth

There is a grain of Truth
Running deep and clear and bright
Beneath the stain of the world.
Running through the living greenwood
Of Eden's life-giving, ever-bearing tree
Towards that long-promised and looked for Vintage.

And, neither curse, nor blight or beastly mark
Will ever turn the Vinedresser from his tender care
Or convince the lovesick Gardener
Not to leave home for the harvest in hope.