An Adventure (verse)
Daly, James J.
Adventure I died last night about half-past eleven; An owl was hooting; the winds were banshee-wails. To my surprise I found myself in heaven, And chatting with a saint—I think, de Sales. He...
...O, yes, they all were kindness itself to me, Accepting me in equal fellowship: They failed to mark, rather feigned not to see My craven, shifting glance and faltering lip...
...O, very well...
...He was a courteous saint, the best of guides...
...The clock was striking twelve when I returned...
...I slowly grew distressed...
...I cried...
...I ought not to be here...
...My saint in doubt Stood for a moment...
...He introduced me round, with brief asides About the other saints and their careers...
...The winds had dropped: the owl was hooting still...
...I am not dead...
...Then down the night where all the star-suns burned I fled in shame, but resolute of will...
...Smiling explorers of terror and of pain, Bold challengers of death, their high-bred port Told of adventure and of calm disdain Where the fell pursuivants of the soul consort...
...I had no fears...
...he said...
...He put me at my ease...
...James J. Daly...
...Please let me out...
...There's some mistake...
Vol. 3 • March 1926 • No. 20
