THE last line of Andrew Young's piece is perhaps a reminder of the religious vocation of this most original of Scottish poets and naturalists.

Is it a startling Easter image? (Young's Selected Poems are published by Carcanet at £9.95.)

THE EVENING STAR

I saw a star shine in bare trees

That stood in their dark effigies;

With voice so clear and close it sang

That like a bird it seemed to hang

Rising and falling with the wind,

Twigs on its rosy breast outlined.

An obvious moon high on the night

And haloed by a rainbow light

Sounded as loud as silver bell

And trees in flight before it fell,

Their shadows straggling on the road

Where glacier of soft moonlight flowed.

But moon nor star-untidy sky

Could catch my eye as that star's eye;

For still I looked on that same star,

That fitful, fiery Lucifer,

Watching with mind as quiet as moss

Its light nailed to a burning cross.