Poetry

Excursion to the Past

LET us be off. Our steam Is deafening the dome. The needle in the gauge Points to a long-banked rage, And trembles there to show What a pressure's below. Valves cannot vent the strain Nor iron ribs refrain

That furnace in the heart. Come on, make haste and start

Coupling-rod and wheel Welded of patient steel, Piston that does not stir Beyond the cylinder

To take in its stride

A teeming -countryside.

A countryside that gleams In the sun's weeping be ; Where wind-pump, byre and barrow

Are mellowed to mild sorrow,

Agony and sweat Grown over with regret.

What golden -vesper hours Halo the old grey towers,

What honeyed bells in valleys

Embalm our faiths and follies.

Here are young daffodils

Wind-wanton, and the hills Have made their peace with heaven, 0 lovely the heart's haven,

Meadows of endless may,

A spirit's holiday.

Traveller, take awe. Pick no flowers there.

C. DAY LEWIS.