SIR WILLIAM WATSON
O bright irresistible lord'
We are fruit of Earth's womb, each one,
And fruit of thy loins, O Sun, Whence first was the seed outpour'd. To thee as our Father we bow,
Forbidden thy Father to sec, Who is older and greater than thou, as thou
Art greater and older than we.
Thou art but as a word of his speech,
Thou art but as a wave of his hand,
Thou art brief as a glitter of sand 'Twixt tide and tide on his beach, Thou art less than a spark of his fire,
Or a moment's mood of hi^ ^oul Thou art lost in the notes on the lips of his choir
That chant the chant of the Whole.
��FRANCIS THOMPSON 872 Daisy
WHERE the thistle lifts a purple crown Six foot out of the turf, And the harebell shakes on the wind) hill O the breath of the distant surf
The hills look ov r er on the South,
And southward dreams the sea, And, with the sea-brce/c hand in hand,
Came innocence and she.
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