# The Conservative (Lovecraft)/July 1923/I Will Lead Thee

I Will Lead Thee By Betty Earle
Announcement in March number of Modern Age:
   “Some of the most delightful, most spontaneous songs come from children. Recognising this, we announce that hereafter this page will be devoted to the original poetry of contributors between the ages of nine and fourteen.”
Letter sent to editor of Modern Age from Burmah:
   “I realise how inadequate are these translations. In vain have I tried to reproduce the melody, the sweetness, the divine simplicity of these songs.
   Only an aged poet of tremendous faith could come as he does in his boat upon the river, turn his great blind eyes to the stars, and plucking his lute here and there, sing these songs of creation.
   He loves his solitude. But since his generous spirit has permitted me to accompany him to these lonely places, I try to withdraw myself from his consciousness, so that he can sing or sit silent with his large thoughts upon him, as if he were altogether alone.”
Poem sent to the editor of Modern Age by David Paul, aged nine, Lillith, Missouri:
   The Quiet plays behind the stars, The holy notes break forth in nestled glories. Clouds shape and stain themselves with unnamed colors, shifting before the wonderment of worlds.
   With the silvering strains upon them, the little stars lie still. And there is no exhausting, no tiring, no faint farewell of lute In the untroubled music behind the stars.
Letter sent to David Paul, Lillith, Missouri, by the editor of Modern Age:
   “If you read the announcement in the March number of Modern Age, you will discover that all poems submitted must be original and must be written by the contributor, whose age must not exceed fourteen years. This fact, of course, bars from publication the poem you submitted.”
Letter sent to editor of Modern Age from Burmah:
   “Like the translations the picture fails to do him justice. You can see only a white-haired, white bearded face, the hair parted softly in the middle, the eyes introspective, dark and sad. But I see a face of strength and awful humility, a face of vision and steadfast purpose. I believe——I cannot help but believe——his singing is divine.
   The seventh song is the first I have heard him sing on shore. He had walked without faltering along the reeds by the river. He seems to have an inner vision that makes guiding unnecessary. It was sunset, and the lotus was red. ‘The sunlight will walk down the river-path to meet me—’ I reached hurriedly for pencil and pad.”
Poem mailed to editor of Modern Age by David Paul, aged nine, Lillith, Missouri:
   “A light will spread from sea to sea and whisper my spirit to rest; The lotus flowers will spill their blood at my feeet; Pale they will glow and radiant-white, throwing their gladness toward me.
   The sunlight will walk down the river-path to meet me, And the flowers will come crowding to my hands.”
​Letter to David Paul, Lillith, Missouri, by the editor of Modern Age:
   “I must confess I do not know where you are getting these unpublished poems. But you are, perhaps, too young to know that when you copy almost word for word the songs of another, you are committing what is called plagiarism in a publisher’s office and theft in a commercial world.”
Letter sent to editor of Modern Style from Burmah:
   “With what sorrow must I send you this last song, written before he died, September the ninth.
   The evening had come quietly upon us. He sat with silent fingers resting upon his lute. He spoke almost without moving. I felt that he was not speaking for the Father in saying,
   ‘I will lead thee by the hand——,’
   but that he was speaking for himself, as if he were the leader, and another, a weaker, were being led.
   Still light of evening fell upon his face. So quiet he was, a wall crept up between us, a sort of holiness shutting him away from me; so that I turned my eyes to the water, knowing it was wrong to see.
   When I looked at last, I knew he would never sing again.”
Poem mailed to the editor of Modern Age by the mother of David Paul, Lillith, Missouri:
   “The shadows shall grow large upon my coming. My lamp shall descend upon thee, where men shall seek and never find.
   I will lead thee by the hand into the pure, unchanging twilight. There shall be soft stars to listen, but never, never a breath.”
Letter copied and mailed to David Paul by the editor of Modern Age.
   “I felt that he was not speaking for the Father in saying
   ‘I will lead thee by the hand——,’
   but that he was speaking for himself. as if he were the leader, and another, a weaker, were being led. Still light of evening fell upon his face.... When I looked at last, I knew he would never sing again.”
Message scrawled upon back of envelope that had been addressed to David Paul; now returned unopened to the editor of Modern Age:
“David Paul: Died, September 9th.”