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The Spike: or, Victoria University College Review October, 1920



Never was sorrow in the world before
Like unto mine.
Never will sorrow in the world be more,
Though for a thousand thousand years she pine,
And all the griefs that ever were of yore
Are weak and seem as water unto wine.

For I red poppy round my brows have bound,
And all in vain;
Have drunk the draught of hemlock and have found
No sweet respite upon my bed of pain,
For sorrow springs as freshly from the ground
As waving grasses after weeping rain.

C. Q. P.