What blasphemy is this? Thou hast no spell
To call that heaven-born spirit from the deep,
Or move the stars. What cometh in his place?
This monstrous fraud which thou hast raised from hell,
Whose arms about thee in the darkness creep?
Light not thy torch, lest thou shouldst see
his face.


* * * * *


OLIVIA MEYNELL


_A GRIEF WITHOUT CHRIST_

I sought Him in the trees, and Him I found
In every colour, and in every sound.

I sought Him in the sky, and He was there,
A living God, breathing the living air.

I sought Him in my soul--oh, passionate loss!
All that I found was a forsaken Cross.


_THE CROWNING_

Whenas we wandered in the summer hours,