18 DECEMBER 1926, Page 19

Poetry

The Cathedral

Tnou art a princely dream, a swelling psalm Graver than adoration of a Nun, Richer than bells that stab a Sabbath calm, Cooler than fount or palm in Syrian sun.

No crash of Empires marred the scholar's dream, Nor stinted offerings foiled the lavished skill, But burning souls informed the burning scheme, A symphony of hands, one Faith, one Will.

Thou hast outlived the splendour of the noon Whose teeming visions chide our colder day :

Our utmost praise is but a beggar's tune Fitful as yonder sun's declining ray, Kissing thy spires to amber ere he sets Upon a darkening file of silhouettes.

JOHN COOK.