G. H. JOHNSTONE (MERTON)

FULL of unearthly peace lies river-water, Glaucous and here and there with irised circles: Now subdued melody rises from the wreaths Of whirling flies, their mazy conflict driving To melancholy lamp-images in the pool: An unseen fish greyly breeds lubric rounds Up-reaching to the thrill of populous air: O hour supreme for poised and halting thought! Down colonnade on colonnade of rose The immense Symbols move augustly on; Mystery, her stony eyes revealed a little, Not cumbered longer by the veils of noise: Evening, a lithe and virginal dream-figure, Wavering between a green cloak and a blue, And, robed at length, turning with exquisite And old despair towards the gate of Dawn: And Fate, bemused awhile and half withdrawn, Charmed to short rest between grim Day and Night.

MARSILIO sighed: and drew a rough discord From his guitar, and sang so to us listeners: “I too have mounted every step of ice And dragged my bleeding ankles, hope-enthralled, To Heaven’s blessed door; when instantly From side-nooks rising tripped the outer angels, In thin, light-hammered armour, giggling boys, But muscular, and with concerted charge Seized my poor feet, and flung me laughing, laughing, Laughing, down, down among the insect men Who look up never, antwise busy—crawling: Alas! the burden of their feathery laughter, More bitter than my fall, has pried a passage Into my luckless head, and ‘Ha-ha, ha-ha!’ Maddens its walls and frets them ruinously: Beware my flitting pestilence: I’ll not gage That certain easier outlets may not bring The noise out and about and thick among you: O bitter, bitter days for those it visits!” And murmuring “bitter” with a fading sadness Marsilio went: the assembly all were silent.