"Who Hammered You, Wrought you, from argentine Vapour?" | Cup-A-Tea Poetry

I am grateful for yesterday--the kind of day I want to wrap up and treasure in its ordinary specialness as a balm for a rather painful week of assignments and deadlines. For one thing I got 9 hours of sleep (not to be taken for granted as a uni student!) and that really brightens up one's outlook on life, it really does. I also went to a book fair hosted at my uni which is just what a literary soul needs during a stressful study week.

But hey, I am here to share a poem! I know I am on a bit of a roll with poetry these days, but poetry has honestly been one of my favourite things lately. It is easy to just pick up a poem and reflect and ponder on the depth of meaning and beauty but not be tangled up in reading dozens of pages. Bit-sized treasure. So this is me just dropping in to share another poem that I came across this weekend. I found it in a collection I acquired at that book fair. It's "The Lion Book of Christian Poetry: A Treasury of Poems and the Stories of Their Writers" compiled by Pat Alexander. And the poem is by Francis Thompson, the famous poet who wrote "The Hound of Heaven". This one is titled "To a Snowflake" and it just captured my imagination on this restful, abet rainy Saturday afternoon. I have never seen snow, but I have always wondered at its mystery, its magic and cold power. I am reminded of the verse in Scripture that says "Hast thou entered into the treasures of the snow? or hast thou seen the treasures of the hail, which I have reserved against the time of trouble, against the day of battle and war?" (Job 38: 22-23). The stanzas in this poem for sure harken those words to me. And then in this poem the snowflake, speaking to the poetic speaker, responds to the question "Who hammered you, wrought you, from argentine vapour?" And just as the snowflake responds "God was my Shaper" there is great peace and awe in the fact that you and I can also say, "He hammered, he wrought me" and He gives meaning to my very existence, purpose and being.

To A Snowflake
Francis Thompson

What heart could have thought you?--
Past our devisal 
(O filigree petal!)
Fashioned so purely,
Fragilely, surely,
From what Paradisal
Imagineless metal
Too costly for cost?
Who hammered you, wrought you,
From argentine vapour?--

'God was my Shaper.
Passing surmisal
He hammered, he wrought me,
From curled silver vapour,
To lust of his mind: - 
Thou couldst not have thought me!
So purely, so palely,
Tinily, surely,
Mightily, frailly,
Insculped and embossed,
With his hammer of wind,
And his graver of frost'.