4 JUNE 1932, Page 13

Poetry

Grace before Meat

BEFORE I lived I took this knife in hand,

Consumed this unborn flesh upon the plate : Went further, saw the glitter of the sand Cohering into clay, following fate Toward the potter's wheel. Now what I eat Is but a barmecide, yet for the day Sufficient, a material deceit To carry truth upon its ancient way.

Behold how pitiful the parted lips That crave to satisfy a hunger grown Out of the passion set 'twixt Adam's hips Long ere the individual was known.

O Giver of this food, make it Thy blood, To feed the mind that has not understood !

RICHARD CIIURCII.