Poems by Michael Campbell

 

Our saviour slept in fodder

Our saviour slept in fodder
Precious pearl beneath the sod.
Born to make a loving soul
Of all men made of mud.

Mudlark and our servant-king
Found us on this muddy shore
Bottom-feeders; buried fish
caught us, made us, pure once more.

Saviour, servant, mudlark, king.
We must love with all your mirth
And must know that mud is mud
How you teach us in your birth.

Michael Campbell (Wembley Church)

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