On A Theme From Nicolas Of Cusa
When soul and body feed, one sees
Their differing physiologies.
Firmness of apple, fluted shape
Of celery, or tight-skinned grape
I grind and mangle when I eat,
Then in dark, salt, internal heat,
Annihilate their natures by
The very act that makes them I.
But when the soul partakes of good
Of truth, which are her savoury food,
By some far subtler chemistry
It is not they that change, but she,
Who feels them enter with the state
Of conquerors her opened gate,
Or, mirror-like, digests their ray
By turning luminous as they.
The Late Passenger p.61
Evolutionary Hymn p.69
The Future Of Forestry p.75
To The Author Of Flowering Rifle p.79
*On A Theme From Nicolas Of Cusa p.84
Wormwood p.101
*Nearly They Stood p.116
Relapse p.117
To A Friend p.118
After Vain Pretence p.120
*Joys That Sting p.122
*As The Ruin Falls p.123
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