15 JULY 1938, Page 21
SONG
O wno can tell where flow the seas Or China's passive centuries 9 The heart of fire ? The will of steel ? The fortune squandered on the wheel ?
O who can trail the comet's flight, The plane that vanished in the night, The bullets emptied in the skies And beauty's narcissistic sighs ?
O who can say what fire awaits Our savage and usurping states ? The vast enchanted millionaire, The empire hovering on despair ?
The wisdom founded on disgust ? The Spaniard rotting in the dust ? The traitor hurled into the gutter ? The idiot's terrible, pleading mutter ?
O who can guess what arm receives Each dead September's million leaves Or what exacting fire will bless Our long and stammering loneliness ?
FREDERIC PROKOSCH.
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