3 JULY 1941, Page 13

SAFETY IN PHILOSOPHY

THE wise man, sunlight dappling his hair, Sat in the rising grass. A million fingers Caressed his feet, took greenhold of his chair. His disciples spoke together ; " If he lingers, He'll sink knee-deep into the chlorophyl. The running green will touch his fingertips ; And while he meditates, the earth-tide will Reach up, and lap with poison at his lips." This prophecy no sooner uttered, than They whetted a curved hook, and chose a wrist To venture near and save the thinking man ; And if he should refuse to move, insist!

They did not see that where he sat profound, The mocking gods had conjured stony ground.

RICHARD CHURCH.