Stained Glass
Stained glass, high in the clerestory at York,
or all our wedded lives framed in this sunless
stairwell, a wine merchant from the Rose
at Chartres still rolling brightly off to work.
The grozing. The oxides. Such pains they took.
Handblown and drawn. Fired. A hundred blazing
reds burn through the days since John was king. You raise
binoculars to a Jesse tree and talk
to me of medieval things. That passion
fades now, though you might glance up at the windows
in our daughter’s college. I can see lead
“cames” waiting, numbered pieces, each positioned
for the kiln’s revelation. When they fuse,
how will our glazed lives glow out from the dead?
Madam: Archbishop Fisher (July-August 2024) does not resist the attacks on his church by the political, social or scientific atheists and those who insist on not being told what to do.
Aug 29 2024
6 mins
To claim Aborigines have the world's oldest continuous culture is to misunderstand the meaning of culture, which continuously changes over time and location. For a culture not to change over time would be a reproach and certainly not a cause for celebration, for it would indicate that there had been no capacity to adapt. Clearly this has not been the case
Aug 20 2024
23 mins
A friend and longtime supporter of Quadrant, Clive James sent us a poem in 2010, which we published in our December issue. Like the Taronga Park Aquarium he recalls in its 'mocked-up sandstone cave' it's not to be forgotten
Aug 16 2024
2 mins