Poem by Ada Cambridge (Cross)

A Prayer

Spirit and Breath of Life, whate'er Thy name!
   Bear with Thy creature, Man,
That makes his dwelling-place a blot of shame
   Upon the Ordered Plan.

Not Thy hand, O Divine Designer, hurled
   Athwart the starlit skies
One blood-stained, greed-diseased, hate-eaten world,
   To shock celestial eyes.

Not Thy default, O Beautiful, this crust
   Of fratricidal crime,
These maggot-breeds of hunger and of lust
   That Thy fair work begrime.

But ours, who mock Thee from the highest place,
   And in the light of day;
Who claim to lead an upward-struggling race,
   And will not seek the way.

Guards of the human birthright, at Thy call—
   A city sacked and burned;
Guards of the house that is the home of all,
   But whence the weak are spurned.

Brothers, to whom the outcast brothers cry
   As with a voice unknown;
Stewards of Nature's bounty, that deny
   The lawful heirs their own.

Thou that hast made us men, and earth so fair,
   To be so vilely used,
Give space for late repentance and repair
   Of sacred trust abused.

Give time, Eternal, that we stanch these tears,
   Give time to heal this sore,
That our brief speck amid the shining spheres
   Disgrace its birth no more.

But sail ethereal seas, an orb of light,
   To bear Thy purpose on
Until it fades into the cosmic night
   Where the dead worlds have gone.

1. The Coo of the Cushat
2. Cui Bono
3. The Last Battle of the Cid
4. Unstrung
5. Grey

Albert Watson A Prayer ("O THOU whose finger-tips")

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