6 FEBRUARY 1932, Page 19

Poetry

Non Omms Mona' r*

NOT all of me will die, not all of me

Pass hence to unrelieved oblivion; Some quintessential spark must needs break free And soar and seek and touch at last the sun.

Else were the very breath of life a liar,

Which bath thereof, since my first sentient hour,

Instinctive been a certitude, a star, A motive unto action, and a power.

How otherwise could viewless poesy Prick me to render things invisible Half glimpsed through magic phrases, how and why Urge me unresting, bind me with a spell, To echo forth, tho' faint, scarce audible even, -The ultimate music of the heart of heaven ?

E. B. W. CHAPPELOW.

*Horace, Odes III,-XX.X.