To treat Thompson fairly one should give his deeper poems careful study, but Thompson does not always write of deep and doubtful things. More often indeed his faith is as the faith of a little child. We are told on high authority that we must become as little children if we are to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. It was as a little child that Thompson sought to enter there, and it is among the children of Heaven that Thompson would take his place. To his godchild he writes: And when, immortal mortal, droops your head, And you, the child of deathless song, are dead; Then, as you search with unaccustomed glance The ranks of Paradise for my countenance, Turn not your tread along the Uranian sod Among the bearded counsellors of God; For if in Eden as on earth are we, I sure shall keep a younger company: Pass where beneath their rangéd gonfalons The starry cohorts shake their shielded suns, The dreadful mass of their enridgèd spears; Pass where majestical the eternal peers, The stately choice of the great Saintdom, meet-- A silvern segregation, globed complete In sandalled shadow of the Triune feet; Pass by where wait, young poet-wayfarer, Your cousined clusters, emulous to share With you the roseal lightnings burning 'mid their hair; Pass the crystalline sea, the Lampads seven:-- Look for me in the nurseries of Heaven. MILTON AN UNDERGRADUATE POEM From out the darkness of the vanished years, The voice of Milton peals; his mighty song Rings down the centuries, its note still strong As when it burst upon our fathers' ears. Amid the unnumber'd harmonies that swell From bards of earth to break round heaven's throne, His part, clear heard amid the mingled tone, Rolls full and solemn, like a deep-voiced bell. A spirit strong with more than mortal strength, When in life's battle he had borne his share, He passed from out the tumult and the care, And climbed upon the mountain tops at length. There, with blind eyes turned to the Promised Land, Waiting the dawn of an unending day, His soul went forth in that tremendous lay The eternal heights and breadths and depths which spanned. Poor, lonely and forgot, though he endured The bitter thought of labour spent in vain, And saw invaded by a godless train The land whose liberty he deemed assured; Yet not for that did he "abate one jot Of heart or hope"; scorning to cringe or cower, Steadfast he stood like some majestic tower, That feels the tempest's blast, but wavers not. From rulers of the earth he asked no grace, Nor leaned upon the love of human heart, Lofty and passionless he drew apart, And communed with the Highest face to face. Far from the din and toil of mortal kind His spirit's barque was borne; serene and high He brooded on the unfathomed mystery Of thoughts that burden the Eternal Mind.