page 42

6th July, 1930

Morning bells now weave their notes through muffling mist-trails;
My waking thought, impetuous, threads with restless Shuttle
In and out the warp of factual detail.

Light-season ascending scales the wintry citadel;
Day-loving birds their aubade have begun again,
Knowing full well the turn of the year has come again.

Lifting my head, I view snow-peaks irradiated
With vital rose, where late, cold dormant sepulchres
They slept at this same hour in shadowy greyness.

Responsive to thy rhythms, energising Spirit,
Let now my torpid soul awake and gird herself
With garments of goodwill, sandals of service,
With the stout armament of sustained praises.