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The Spike or Victoria University College Review June 1918


page 38


A lamp that burns long with remembrance,
A river that rolls amain,
Full forests of fruited exuberance,
Sad songs that the Sirens sustain,
A loom for which Life has oft languished,
Charmed cestus that Venus veiled,
Its numberless victors has vanished,
By soft sighs assailed.

Bright beams that are born in our being
And warm the cold earth, wild and wan,
Seek haunts beyond reach of our seeing,
And sink to the West like the swan
Which pours all the sweet from the saddest
Rejoicing in death soon to come.
It draws from the grief of the gladdest,
Mists of Millenium.