Alec de Candole
Alec de Candole Poems
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The Breath Of God
The breath of God, a wind from heaven's throne,
Like friendship's sweetness, and like pain's sharp strength,
Outstretching mightily to memory's length —
The free and wind-swept Marlborough Downs, my own.
Ah, Marlborough, Martinsell, and Granham Hill !
To see below the little town outspread,
Standing beside the old White Horse's head.
That 'pads and pads,' unmoved and silent still.
The twin grey towers, a double sentinel,
The Chapel spire, the Mound, the Wilderness,
The bridge, and Rennet's silver sluggishness, —
Ah, Marlborough, Granham Hill, ...
And If A Bullet
And if a bullet in the midst of strife
Should still the pulse of this unquiet life
Twere well: be death an everlasting rest,
I oft could yearn for it, by cares opprest ;
And be 't a night that brings another day,
I still could go rejoicing on my way,
Desiring in no phantom heav'n to dwell.
Nor scared with terror of any phantom hell.
But gazing now I find not death a curse