Form: a quarterly of the arts (1.1916/1917)

T H E

4* 4*

VISITOT

(She brings that breathfand nuisic tco,
That ccnnes when ApriU da\,’6 begm;
Tvnd eweetness Autumn neverhad

s

In amy’ bursting sKtn.

hes big with Uughter at the breasts.

Like netted itsh the\’ teap:

O h God that I were iar ftom here,

Or bj’ing fast asteep l

AV. H .Davies—

SACRAMENT

BEFORE the Altar of the world in flower,

Upon whose steps thy creatures kneel in

line,

We do beseech thee in this wild Spring hour,
Grant us, O! Lord, thy wine. But not this wine.

HELPLESS, we, praying by the shimmering

seas,

Beside thy fields whence all the earth is fed,
Thy little children clinging about thy knees,

Cry: “GrantusLordthy bread.” Butnotthis bread.

THIS wine of awful sacriflce out poured;

This bread of life—of human lives. The

Press

Is overflowing—the Wine-Press of the Lord!

Yet doth he tread the foaming grapes no less.

THESE stricken lands! the green time of the

year

Has found them wasted by a ruddy flood,
Sodden and wasted everywhere—everywhere ;
Not all our tears may cleanse them from that blood.

THE earth is all too narrow for these dead
Lord! Lord! and each a child of ours—and

Thine.

This flesh (our flesh) crumbled away like bread,
This blood (our blood) poured forth like wine—

like wine.

"Maigarer' SackviUe

TWO POEMS

BYFRANCIS

BURROWS

PRAYHC

WHOSE ear, whose help,shall one beseech,
Who never before hath prayed,

Now that his lonely griefs outreach
The pale of human aid?

THE sun? the moon? the clouds or breeze?
The sky that gave them birth?

The ocean thundering at the knees
Of the ever patient earth?

THE wind will pluck his cloak aside,
The rain spit in his face;

The thundering ocean will abide,
The earth retain her place.

OD, whatsoever thing thou art,
Now darkness blots his day,
And pride is fallen from his heart,
Grant him the power to pray.

DRIPCTION

IF thy soul hangs, a blinded world,

Adust and single, far asunder
From its maintaining sun; enfurled
By silence, unperturbed by thunder,
Having no roaring Ares under;—

IF thou no tinder hast, to raise

Thy dormant sparks, so that thou leapest
At whiles into a little blaze;

But overwhelmed and plunged thou sleepest
In that soul-stupor which is deepest;—

R

USH to my breast, my friend, my bride,
My sharer of one constellation;

When two such flreless stars collide
Their impact and their conflagration
From darkness bring illumination.

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