The Sword of Suprise

Sunder me from my bones, O sword of God Till they stand stark and strange as do the trees; That I whose heart goes up with the soaring woods May marvel as much at these.

Sunder me from my blood that in the dark I hear that red ancestral river run Like branching buried floods that find the sea But never see the sun.

Give me miraculous eyes to see my eyes Those rolling mirrors made alive in me Terrible crystals more incredible Than all the things they see

Sunder me from my soul, that I may see The sins like streaming wounds, the life's brave beat Till I shall save myself as I would save A stranger in the street.

ALLITERATIVISM (1914)

(THE LATEST SCHOOL)

(FRENCH AIRMEN HAVE BEEN FLYING OVER BADEN AND BAVARIA, VIOLATING BELGIAN NEUTRALITY Stated on German authority in the "Westminster Gazette")

SEE the flying French depart Like the bees of Bonaparte, Swarming up with a most venomous vitality. Over Baden and Bavaria, And Brighton and Bulgaria, Thus violating Belgian neutrality.

And the injured Prussian may Not unreasonably say "Why, it cannot be so small a nationality Since Brixton and Batavia, Bolivia and Belgravia, Are bursting with the Belgian neutrality."

By pure Alliteration You may trace this curious nation, And respect this somewhat scattered Principality; When you see a B in Both You may take your Bible oath You are violating Belgian neutrality.

The Human Tree

Many have Earth's lovers been, Tried in seas and wars, I ween; Yet the mightiest have I seen: Yea, the best saw I. One that in a field alone Stood up stiller than a stone Lest a moth should fly.

Birds had nested in his hair, On his shoon were mosses rare, Insect empires flourished there, Worms in ancient wars; But his eyes burn like a glass, Hearing a great sea of grass Roar towards the stars.

From them to the human tree Rose a cry continually: `Thou art still, our Father, we Fain would have thee nod. Make the skies as blood below thee, Though thou slay us, we shall know thee. Answer us, O God!

`Show thine ancient fame and thunder, Split the stillness once asunder, Lest we whisper, lest we wonder Art thou there at all?' But I saw him there alone, Standing stiller than a stone Lest a moth should fall.

G.K. CHESTERTON