13 MARCH 1942, Page 8

MICHAEL AND LUCIFER

I STAND victorious at Creation's brink, My Father's Will being now accomplished. Is it not well, to watch a foul Thing sink From deep to shuddering deep of infamies, While I am free—this Evil being sped— To sheathe the sword, and ride to Paradise?

Why do I, Michael, think on the Beginning?—

It is a long ride to my Father's Home, Where, rank on rank, the Hierarchies stood When first the challenge sounded with his sinning. It is a long ride truly. . . . If I come The great-winged Seraphim will know me not, Who am grown grey, and 'plashed with Dragon's blood, And my celestial radiancy forgot.

Since I have missed one heart's beat of the Gloria,

I am aware of that which men call, Pity—

The mortal ache no triumph can allay. How brightly was his scaled armour worn!

How lightly rose his crest to meet the morn,

When we were brethren in our Father's City!

MARY-ADAIR MACDONALD.