Poem by Alice Meynell

The Fugitive

"Nous avons chassé ce Jésus Christ." — FRENCH PUBLICIST.

Yes, from the ingrate heart, the street
Of garrulous tongue, the warm retreat
    Within the village and the town;
    Not from the lands where ripen brown
A thousand thousand hills of wheat;

Not from the long Burgundian line,
The Southward, sunward range of vine.
    Hunted, He never will escape
    The flesh, the blood, the sheaf, the grape,
That feed His man—the bread, the wine.

1. Free Will
2. To Silence
3. The Two Questions
4. Unlinked
5. To Tintoretto in Venice

Mary Robinson The Fugitive ("Oft have I seen yon Solitary Man")

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