ISSUE: Summer 1933
ON A SUN-DIAL
Take out the gnomon from the dial; spurn The haunting index of the self from mind,
And back in timeless gardens you shall learn That shadows where you grieved were self-designed.
It is the rigid rod of self, the lean Impending skeleton that comes between Your joy and far unbroken radiance,
And casts illusions of impermanence.
Take out the gnomon from the dial; tear Self-pity from the heart, and sing, and share The shadowless glory which is ever there.
