IN AN OFFICE.

New Zealand Tablet, 28 August 1919, Page 17

IN AN OFFICE.

Seven bodies round, me spin :'•;■:'' • Live tentacles, to snare And drag my mind therein Out 'of the open air. Before me a blank wall Is built, I cannot flee; V I feel the thin threads crawl Tightening over v me. Life is blown through the room All round me, a thick smoke; Seven spiders spin my doom, In a living shroud I choke. Ah, if I could but find That tunnel which (men say) . Leads from this earthly mind, Underneath sense, away To tho clear inner land And the spiritual sea, And the high towns that stand Within eternity; Where souls can breathe at ease The fine salt-sprinkled air, In long walks lined with trees Or a wide market square. Ah, to be saved so! But Earth piled within-me fills That tunnel; I am shut From the everlasting hills. I dig at the entering-in, Ere the lives around me press My mind, by the cords. they spin Caught, into nothingness. Wildly I dig; above, The earth falls crumblingly; I feel the thin threads move - Tightening over me. -Charles Williams, in The New Witness.