Poem (1)

Fair thou art,

But fairer yet to me

The pure, sweet beauty of thy noble mind.

Rich thou art

Beyond all worldly wealth,

And true to me beyond all common truth.

No passions, effervescent, cooling fast,

To damp the ardour of a loving heart;

No sudden ecstasies of sense and frame,

Dissolving, bitterly, the way they came;

But living, lasting, joy serene,

The joy that has for aeons been

And evermore will be.

For spirit being not intense

And rousing false emotions as the flesh,

As recompense is durable,

Depending on such things as faith

And full unearthly, deep unselfishness.

To give doth benefit as much the giver

As him that doth receive.

Naught else can chasten save true sympathy

If any man doth grieve.

Longmoor 1948

Poem (2)

Would I had time enough, and had no care

To take up arms against

Blackest despair.

Would that the tragedy and all the fear,

Heartache and misery

Could disappear,

Leaving the luxury of carefree life,

Without necessity,

Trouble and strife;

Inspiring hopefulness, no brevity

Of grim Death’s enemy

Longevity.

Would that the lowly mind could soar above,

Losing in selfishness,

Gaining in love.

Could learn that love alone banishes fear,

Love of so many things

That we hold dear.

Love of vitality; joy in the powers

Pursuant from knowledge

That only is ours.

Throw to the wind of scorn, morality;

Anachronist conven-

tionality.

Catch to your heart instead, new-found release

From that hard moral code.

Freedom increase!

Why should we be denied things of import?

Life’s own abandonment,

We ourselves thwart,

Thwart with this struggle, inherently vile,

Life’s lasting tourney ‘gainst

Love’s chilling smile.

Thus does the shade advance, filling with gloom

My very soul, and does

Presage my doom.

Would I had time enough, and had no care

To take up arms against

Blackest despair.

Longmoor, 1948

Poem (3)

Is mind to be subordinate to matter,

The physical preferred to the ethereal?

Is gain the sole incentive used to flatter?

And should one only care for things material?

Or is there some one things that rules supreme;

That holds all justice, mercy, tenderness;

And does not merely come into the scheme

And order of this wretched universe?

For honesty remains a second best

In worlds where only profit dictates sense,

And truth must be content to stay hard-prest,

For virtues bring but mental recompense.

Longmoor, 1948

Poem (4)

Man is but a shallow creature

In the confines of his mind.

Though history proves his teacher,

Learns not. Life can be unkind

To all those who reject reason,

Favouring instinctive right;

Forsaking as out of season

Modesty, however slight.

Can it be that life regresses,

Having limits to its range?

Can one say that naught progresses

Past a modicum of change?

Longmoor, September 1948