Poem February 8, 1947 Issue

Gabriel

KATHLEEN HALL THORPE

I rose up when I heard the trumpet call
To march with Michael and his host.
With armor on and flaming sword in hand
We strove to drive the dragon from the land
And lay him in the dust.

Now let me find that place of quietness,
Where all the conflicts end,
Wherein the dragon can no longer war,
And man greets man as friend;
A place to drink the royal wine
And share the broken bread: a place
To know the ministry
Of gentleness and grace.