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ST. JOHN by Victor Hugo
     ("Un jour, le morne esprit.")

     {Bk. VI. vii., Jersey, September, 1855.}
     One day, the sombre soul, the Prophet most sublime
         At Patmos who aye dreamed,
     And tremblingly perused, without the vast of Time,
         Words that with hell-fire gleamed,

     Said to his eagle: "Bird, spread wings for loftiest flight—
         Needs must I see His Face!"
     The eagle soared. At length, far beyond day and night,
         Lo! the all-sacred Place!

     And John beheld the Way whereof no angel knows
         The name, nor there hath trod;
     And, lo! the Place fulfilled with shadow that aye glows
         Because of very God.

     NELSON R. TYERMAN.


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