MATER IN EXTREMIS

I stand between them and the outer winds, But I am a crumbling wall. They told me they could bear the blast alone, They told me: that was all. But I must wedge myself between Them and the first snowfall. Riddled am I by onslaughts and attacks I thought I could forestall; I reared and braced myself to shelter them Before I heard them call. I cry them, God, a better shield! I am about to fall.

SELF-REJECTED

Plow not nor plant this arid mound. Here is no sap for seed, No ferment for your need— Ungrateful ground! No sun can warm this spot God has forgot; No rain can penetrate Its barren slate. Demonic winds blow last year's stubble From its hard slope. Go, leave the hopeless without hope; Spare your trouble.

H. D.