Editorial

Preface to Notes Notes

OUR generation already is overpast, And thy lov’d legacy, Gerard, hath lain Coy in my home; as once thy heart was fain Of shelter, when God’s terror held thee fast In life’s wild wood at Beauty and Sorrow aghast; Thy sainted sense tramme’d in ghostly pain, Thy rare ill-broker’d talent in disdain: Yet love of Christ will win man’s love at last.

Hell wars without; but, dear, the while my hands Gather’d thy book, I heard, this wintry day, Thy spirit thank me, in his young delight Stepping again upon the yellow sands. Go forth: amidst our chaffinch flock display Thy plumage of far wonder and heavenward flight!

Chilswell, Jan. 1918.