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The Spike or Victoria College Review 1941


page 43


On still air there jails the sound
Of hollow bells,
Tolling to momentary life,
Eager to exalt the stubborn senses
Numbed in sterile sleep;
Hollow-toned, crushing down
The heavy expectation of the day,
Stunning yet to life, awareness
Of an era's cortege pacing dully by:
Barren bells, spreading fertile sounds.

Let us evaluate.

Here I have leapt with the sails
Before a stinging gale,
And watched flecked silver in the gurgling wake
At night;
Have perched above some bleak deserted stream,
Bared to fear's tumultuous blast,
And forged the cold steel of purpose;
For out of these and not even I
Recall what other hours,
That I have gained.

Therefore, bidding a last farewell
To tranquil eddies and the tailored autobahn,
I have joined column for the next stage.
Streams we ford foam to our joy of will,
For we have rent the veil,
And down the road a chill white beam
Covers the unsure way ahead.