You cannot hopeto bribe or twist,thank God! theBritish journalist.But, seeing whatthe man will dounbribed, there'sno occasion to.
"Over the Fire", from The Uncelestial City (London: Victor Gollancz, 1930) p. 30.
Listen! The wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves, We have had our summer evenings, now for October eves!Humbert Wolfe
The children playAt hide and seekAbout the monumentTo Speke.And why should the deadExplorer mindWho has nothing to seekAnd nothing to find?Humbert Wolfe
Space is a wind that does not blowOn Betelgeuse and time – oh time – is a bird,Whose wings have never stirredThe golden avenues of leavesOn Betelgeuse.Humbert Wolfe