Do you hear that noise, Mother, That comes over the sea? Is that God the Father raging In His Eternity?
A Soul for Sale
You who have not sown Will eat the bitter bread And beg the sweetness of a stone Flung at Saint Stephen's head.
FOR JOHN BETJEMAN'S DAUGHTER Candida is one to-day, What is there that one can say? One is where the race begins Or the sum that counts our sins; But the mark time makes to-morrow Shapes the cross of joy or sorrow.