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1910 · CLOSE READING

The Winged Beetle

The Winged Beetle (1910), PDF p. 91

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ROSEMARY 81 Whose wickedness was never fain to faint, Through these dull years still cherishing the spark Of Thy dear godhead in him—happy saint ! Who hath Thy light within him in the dark Ready to burst again to ruddier dawn An Thou shouldst travel in Thine holy bark To drip Thy dews upon the thirsty lawn, And wake to song beatified the bird. But art Thou living, Lord, or far withdrawn Into the shrines of solitude unstirred ? O Pan ! have pity on the trembling faun ! In all Thy silence is there not one word ?
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