"You're neither unnatural, nor abominable, nor mad; you're as much a part of what people call nature as anyone else; only you're unexplained as yet -- you've not got your niche in creation." - Radclyffe Hall

In 1926, just two years before The Well of Loneliness, Hall’s Adam’s Breed, a psychological novel about an alienated Italian-Englishman, won both the Prix Femina and the James Tait Black Prize. Her early poems and songs were also popular one of them especially so. A decade before she was accused of writing a “vial of prussic acid” for the nation’s schoolchildren, Hall’s “The Blind Ploughman” was an international hit as a tribute song to WWI veterans who had lost their sight.
Set my hands upon the plough, my feet upon the sod:
Turn my face towards the east, and praise be to God!
Ev'ry year the rains do fall, the seeds they stir and spring;
Ev'ry year the spreading trees shelter birds that sing.
From the shelter of your heart, brother drive out sin.
Let the little birds of faith come and nest therein
God has made His sun to shine on both you and me;
God, who took away my eyes, that my soul might see.
No comments:
Post a Comment