Page:Three Plays Sunderland Hills.pdf/95

Rh To choke the springs of action, bind in turn The restless tidal surge of human thought And turn it to a fell Sargossa Sea, Leaving for clean, clear depth of wave that was, Struck by the sun to living emerald A sickly breathing marsh malarial Lit with fantasmal fires of the fen.

And that faint flickering fire they dare oppose These Galileansto our Helios! What say the priests of other mysteries? 'Come Clean of heart, and hand, Discreet of tongue. Draw nigh Devout, with happy holy awe And raise yourself to fellowship with God. He stoops not us-ward, we must rise to Him.' But their God comes in likeness of a man To Sinner sent and witless, not to the Sage Of stainless life and purpose.