THE SHEPHERD BEAUTIFUL

FT as I muse on Rome —and at her
name
Out of the darkness, flushed with blood
and gold,
Smoulders and flashes on her seven-
fold height
The imperial, murderous, harlot Rome of
old,
Rome of the lions, Rome of the awful
light
Where “living torches ” flame —
I thread in thought the Catacombs’ blind maze,
Marvelling how men could then draw
happy breath,
And cheer these sunless labyrinths of death
With one sweet dream of Christ told many
ways.

13!