Evening was in the wood, louring with storm.
A time of drought had sucked the weedy pool
And baked the channels; birds had done with song.
Thirst was a dream of fountains in the moon,
Or willow-music blown across the water
Leisurely sliding on by weir and mill.

Uneasy was the man who wandered, brooding,
His face a little whiter than the dusk.
A drone of sultry wings flicker'd in his head.
The end of sunset burning thro' the boughs
Died in a smear of red; exhausted hours
Cumber'd, and ugly sorrows hemmed him in.

I left the course, and by my side
There walked a ruined tout --
A hungry creature, evil-eyed,
Who poured this story out.
"You see," he said, "there came a swell
To Kensington today,
And, if I picked the winners well,
A crown at least he's pay.

"I picked three winners straight, I did;
I filled his purse with pelf,
And then he gave me half-a-quid
To back one for myself.

"A half-a-quid to me he cast --
I wanted it indeed;
So help me Bob, for two days past
I haven't had a feed.

In an immense wood in the south of Kent,
There lived a band of robbers which caused the people discontent;
And the place they infested was called the Weald,
Where they robbed wayside travellers and left them dead on the field.

Their leader was called Grif, of the Bloody Hand,
And so well skilled in sword practice there's few could him withstand;
And sometimes they robbed villages when nothing else could be gained,
In the year of 1336, when King Edward the III. reigned.

The dress the robbers wore was deep coloured black,

Is it not strange, the darkest hour
That ever dawned on sinful earth
Should touch the heart with softer power
For comfort than an angel's mirth?
That to the Cross the mourner's eye should turn
Sooner than where the stars of Christmas burn?

Sooner than where the Easter sun
Shines glorious on yon open grave,
And to and fro the tidings run,
"Who died to heal, is risen to save?"
Sooner than where upon the Saviour's friends
The very Comforter in light and love descends?

Yet so it is: for duly there

And one of the elders of the city said, "Speak to us of Good and Evil."

And he answered:

Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil.

For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?

Verily when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts, it drinks even of dead waters.

You are good when you are one with yourself.

Yet when you are not one with yourself you are not evil.

For a divided house is not a den of thieves; it is only a divided house.

God dwells in you; in pride and shame,
In all you do to blight or bless;
In all you are of praise and blame,
In beauty or in ugliness.
"Divine Creation" - What a fraud!
God did not make you . . . You make God.
II
God lives in me, in all I feel
Of love and hate, of joy and pain,
Of grace and greed, or woe and weal,
Of fear and cheer, of loss and gain:
For good or evil I am He,
Yea, saint or devil, One are we.
III
God fends and fights in each of us;
His altars we, or bright or dim;
So with no sacerdotal fuss

I am too big. Too big by far. Pity me.
My eyes bulge and hurt. They are my one great beauty, even
so. They see too much, above, below. And yet, there is not much
to see. The rain has stopped. The mist is gathering on my skin
in drops. The drops run down my back, run from the corners of
my downturned mouth, run down my sides and drip beneath
my belly. Perhaps the droplets on my mottled hide are pretty,
like dewdrops, silver on a moldering leaf? They chill me
through and through. I feel my colors changing now, my pig-

That which is marred at birth Time shall not mend,
Nor water out of bitter well make clean;
All evil thing returneth at the end,
Or elseway walketh in our blood unseen.
Whereby the more is sorrow in certaine--
Dayspring mishandled cometh not againe.

To-bruized be that slender, sterting spray
Out of the oake's rind that should betide
A branch of girt and goodliness, straightway
Her spring is turned on herself, and wried
And knotted like some gall or veiney wen.--
Dayspring mishandled cometh not againe.

(ll. 1248-1254) Then the sons of God began to take them wives
from the tribe of Cain, a cursed folk, and the sons of men chose
them wives from among that people, the fair and winsome daughters
of that sinful race, against the will of God. Then the Lord of
heaven lifted up His voice in wrath against mankind, and said:

(ll. 1255-1262) "Lo! I have not been unmindful of the sons of
men, but the tribe of Cain hath sorely angered Me. The sons of
Seth have stirred My wrath against them; they have taken them

(ll. 918-924) And unto Eve God spake in wrath: "Turn thee from
joy! Thou shalt live under man's dominion, sore smitten with
fear before him. With bitter sorrow shalt thou expiate thy sin,
waiting for death, bringing forth sons and daughters in the world
with grief and tears and lamentation."

(ll. 925-938) And on Adam the Eternal God, Author of life,
pronounced an evil doom: "Thou shalt seek another home, a joyless
dwelling. Naked and needy shalt thou suffer exile, shorn of thy
glory. Thy soul and body shall be cleft asunder. Lo! thou hast