POETRY
LINES ON SEEING ONE OF MR. SHAW'S COMIC TRAGEDIES An, learned in Life's mysterious lore, Dread scholar in Love's Art,
You freeze the current of the blood, You tear the soul apart.
Your cold, clear glance forbids our smiles, Your laugh dries up our tears.
We know not where to turn our eyes, Or how to hide our fears.
You trample on our dearest hopes, Fling down each sacred shrine. You leave no gleam, no kindly light.
'Tis—"All lees and no wine."
Through home-made deserts you call Peace You pace with lonely tread, The ash-pits of Men's ruined hearts The playgrounds of the Dead.
Unfair ! Untrue ! The desert air Blows cool, and free, and sane, It heals men's wounds and purges them From the Swamp's fetid stain.
We miss the meadow's flowery pomp, Calm pools, and grasses green. But light of Reason and of Truth Shows red the sneers between.
You do not lie nor make pretence That your Faith is more than your Fear. You drag the veil from the face of Fate, And see, handle, and hear.
Therefore for you, when the dead awake, Shall the Trumpet's call ring out— The call for those who freely served, Because they did not fear to doubt.
J. ST. LOE STRAcnEv.
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