Vestigia (verse)
Stuart, Henry Longan
"Vestigu la O'er his last cruse of oil—last measure of grain, See Love sit brooding! If no prophet pass, Bidding the shrunken sack—the cavernous vase His wantonness hath spent, be filled...
...Tis such drouth, Foredoomed him 'mid his surfeit and disdain Of husbandry in joy that God alloweth . . . Tread softly, man of God, where Love lies slain With white fair limbs misshapen, and the stain Of earth and leaves on his unthrifty mouth...
...Henry Longan Stuart...
...If no prophet pass, Bidding the shrunken sack—the cavernous vase His wantonness hath spent, be filled again, No counsel reach him, woven of the refrain Of ripple of hot winds along dry grass, Or beat of desert sands, against his glass Driven, that mocks him with the patter of rain, Once he may eat—then perish...
Vol. 3 • November 1925 • No. 2
