Oracles

THE EARL’S QUEST Written at Camp Despair, 20,000 ft., Chogo Ri Lungma, Baltistan. SO now the Earl was well a-weary of The grievous folly of this wandering. Had he been able to have counted Love Or Power, or Knowledge as the sole strong thing Fit to suffice his quest, his eyes had gleamed With the success already grasped. The sting Of all he suffered, was that he esteemed His quest partook of all and yet of none. So as he rode the woodlands out there beamed The dull large spectre of a grim flat sun, Red and obscure upon the leaden haze That lapped and wrapped and rode the horizon. The Earl rode steadily on. A crest caught rays Of that abominable sunset, sharp With needles of young pines, their tips ablaze. Their feet dead black ; the wind’s dark fingers warp To its own time their strings, a sombre mode Found by a ghost on a forgotten harp 151