Except the gain of loss;
Yet haply Christ's true peer hath better sign
Than coronet--the Cross.


_ST. GEORGE-IN-THE-EAST_

'Mid the quiet splendour of a pennoned crowd,
Gently proud,
Moved in armour, silvered in celestial forge,
Great Saint George,
Stands he in the crimson-woven air of fight
Speared with light--
Hell is harried by the holy anger poured
From his sword.

Where the sweated toilers of the river slum
Shiver dumb,
Passed to-day a poorly clad and poorly shod
Knight of God;
Where the human eddy smears with shame and rags
Paving flags,
Hell shall weakly wail beneath the words he cries
Piteous-wise.


* * * * *


VIOLA MEYNELL