A Soul for Sale

Do you hear that noise, Mother,
That comes over the sea?
Is that God the Father raging
In His Eternity?

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.