Vii

With little tasks we wile the hours away, Each bringing shyly forth his piteous store Of erudition, oft-times dubious lore, Since memory cupboards all we dare to say. One tells us how to mine, one how to lay A crop of good Rhodesian maize. Nay more, The skirts of metaphysics we explore, And touch the dread fringe of psychology. O to be hidden here amongst the seams Of History’s garment, while the whole world rocks Upon its base! When every day that gleams Tells us that England still against all shocks Raises her front; and starting from our dreams, Each morning Hesepe the lonely mocks!

HESEPE, 30th May