having no adherence, no adhesion anywhere, one clear, burnished, isolated being, unique, and she also, pure, isolated, complete, two of us, unutterably distinguished, and in unutterable conjunction. Then we shall be free, freer than angels, ah, perfect. VIII AFTER that, there will only remain that all men detach themselves and become unique, that we are all detached, moving in freedom more than the angels, conditioned only by our own pure single being, having no laws but the laws of our own being. Every human being will then be like a flower, untrammelled. Every movement will be direct. Only to be will be such delight, we cover our faces when we think of it lest our faces betray us to some untimely fiend. Every man himself, and therefore, a surpassing singleness of mankind. The blazing tiger will spring upon the deer, un-          dimmed, the hen will nestle over her chickens, we shall love, we shall hate, but it will be like music, sheer utterance, issuing straight out of the unknown, the lightning and the rainbow appearing in us unbidden, unchecked, like ambassadors. We shall not look before and after. We shall be, now. We shall know in full.         We, the mystic NOW. ZENNOR 

  

  

 AUTUMN RAIN 

      THE plane leaves fall black and wet on the lawn; The cloud sheaves in heaven's fields set droop and are drawn in falling seeds of rain; the seed of heaven on my face falling—I hear again like echoes even that softly pace Heaven's muffled floor, the winds that tread out all the grain of tears, the store harvested in the sheaves of pain caught up aloft:      the sheaves of dead men that are slain now winnowed soft on the floor of heaven; manna invisible of all the pain here to us given; finely divisible falling as rain. 

  

  

 FROST FLOWERS 

      IT is not long since, here among all these folk in London, I should have held myself of no account whatever, but should have stood aside and made them way thinking that they, perhaps, had more right than I—for who was I? Now I see 

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