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The Spike or Victoria College Review 1940

Symphonie Moderne

page 20

Symphonie Moderne

Beyond the mountain-wall,
What there?
Above this starry pall,
What there?
Below these miry flats,
What there?

(What there?

Around our house creep crimson cats,
Who all night howl at witches' hats,
And in our chimneys hang red bats,
And in our walls there rove red rats—
Why so?

What means this ocean ebb and flow
Of night
And day?
What fleeting light
Beyond this way
Will fire our road
That we may goad
Our blighted hearts
To heaven's marts?

(For Sale . . . .

Apply . . . .

The gale
Is high,
The mist
Hangs low,
The foe!

Death—loping past the town
Death—reaping on the down,
Death death death death

page 21

How dark
Now seems the bark
On yonder tree—
Death—hiding in the branches,
Death—see how each face blanches,
Ha ha ha ha
Is blind
And oh
So kind

So kiss
The man
My bliss
He can
Dissolve the pain you feel with rain
From their beyond the stars' gold frond.