16 NOVEMBER 1934, Page 20

The Wild God's Gift

HOLY and beautiful lie

The bare fields brimmed with sky, But on Barrow Hill thresh Sadly some tall ash-trees weary of the flesh;.

Restless mind caught in a mesh.

They wish, and sigh ; Bind wandering airs to blind desire, And quench the bramble's fire With their white eagerness. to wrest Gold from the unearthly west..

My love be wiser far Than such visionaries are, That would assimilate all Hungrily to their heart's hope, till they fall.

Turbulent ash-trees tall Vain is it to sift - The unprofitable winds ; call home your kingdom, call Heaven home, be subject, tremble and lift Still songs to the first branch-entangled star.

This world too is the wild God's gift.

LILIAN BOWES LYON.