Oracles

THE LITTLE HALF-SOVEREIGN RED is the angry sunset, Murk is the even grey, Heavy the clouds that hover Over our Hell to-day. “ Say, in our dark Gomorrah, Lord, can an angel find Fifty, but fifty, righteous— Body—I say not Mind.” Sadly the angel turneth— “ Stay, ere thou fleest, stay ; Canst thou not find me twenty ? ” “ Nay ” is the answer, “ nay.” “ Are there not ten, bright spirit, Hidden, nor quickly seen, Somewhere in Hell’s dark alleys, Somewhere in Walham Green ? “ Speak, for I see thy forehead Sadden in dark denial, Is there not one that standeth Tempter and longsome trial ? I5