appends "Oxford, Early Spring, 1914," to the poem, which is preceded by a note telling us that one part is adapted from a version of 1912 and another only composed as late as July, 1914. To set so seriously about helping your biographer is charmingly youthful. Another pre-war poem called The Tower describes Judas leaving the Last Supper:
". . . one arose to depart
Having weakness and hate of weakness raging within his heart
And bowed to the robed assembly whose eyes gleamed wet in the light"—
and at the bottom of the tower found beside the door—
"Mary of Seven Evils, Mary Magdalen.
And he was frighted at her. She sighed: 'I dreamed him dead.
We sell the body for silver . . .'
Then Judas cried out and fled."
Though the texture of the poem has been accepted too easily, these are touches of imaginative power which may lead to greater things. Possibly his best poem is—
THE RECKONING
The whole world burns, and with it burns my flesh.
Arise, thou spirit spent by sterile tears;
Thine eyes were ardent once, thy looks were fresh,
Thy brow shone bright amid thy shining peers.
Fame calls thee not, thou who hast vainly strayed
So far from her; nor Passion, who in the past
Gave thee her ghost to wed and to be paid;
Nor love, whose anguish only learned to last.
Honour it is that calls; canst thou forget
Once thou wert strong? Listen, the solemn call
Sounds but this once again. Put by regret
For summons missed, or thou hast missed them all.
Body is ready. Fortune pleased; O let
Not the poor Past cost the proud Future's fall.
