LAST POEM

Through vast

Realms of air

we passed

On wings all-whitely fair.

Sublime

On speeding wing

we climb

Like an unfettered Thing,

Away

Height upon height;

and play

In God's great Lawns of Light.

And He

Guides us safe home

to see

The Fields He bade us roam.

_ROBERT NICHOLS_

(_TRINITY_)

Oxford poetry, 1917 · 第 44 / 59 题