148

[Newspaper clipping]

PIGEONS AT ST. PAUL'S
I saw a flock of pigeons feign
A garland round St. Paul's,
With wings like blossom on the wane
That floats aloof and falls;
No high, pole-threaded wires could
snare
Those birds that bloomed in London
air.

The loiterers round marble Anne
Found no blue doves to feed;
The flock went by, one living fan,
Forgetful of its greed,
Wind-wafted and beatified,
A wave on the ethereal tide.

Nor had they any thought of dread
For what the earth should bring
When like a shower they would shed
Themselves with narrowed wing,
But gladly rode the windy surge
As though they flew on heaven's own
verge.

At counters nigh were men with notes,
Intent upon their sum,
That never saw the rainbow throats,
Nor heard the rhythmic drum
Of wings go by and drop like rain
On leaden roofs in Carter Lane.

But well it were, O foolish ones,
If you with buoyant mind
Could quit all thought of debts and
duns
And float upon the wind,
Forgetful of your narrow walls,
Like doves about the dome of Paul's!

--Wilfred Thorley in The Saturday
Review.