Strong to the end

But I revelled in his verse. He was strong to the end and his glorious irony never left him.

And yet more faintly, now and then is
heard,
Closer, underneath my hand,
Dry whisper of a turning page,
As I peruse, with awful delectation,
The Oxford Book of Death.

So remember, all you drifting, drinking, despairing, self-demeaning schoolmasters. Hidden at the back of your class, pretending to be sullen and resistent, is a boy in whose imagination lurks unknown a spark waiting to be blown to flame. Scannell was even better than a good poet. He could teach.

simon.jenkins@guardian.co.uk
Guardian, CiF, 23 Nov.



Your love, O Lord, reaches to the heavens
Your faithfulness to the skies.

Your rightfulness is like the mighty mountains
your justice like the great deep.

O Lord you preserve both man and beast
how priceless is your unfailing love!

Both high and low among men
find refuge in the shadow of your wings.

They feast on the abundance of your house;
you give them drink from your river of delights.

For with you is the fountain of life;
in your light we see light.


Psalm 36:5 - 10