11 SEPTEMBER 1936, Page 21

The Dancers

THE dancers leap no more upon the stage,

The energetic speech of arms is still ; No drums reverberate, no trumpets shrill Their metaphors of man's mercurial rage.

Feet shuffle to the exits, carefully Avoiding trailing gowns, fumbling for steps.

Headlights throw misty beams. The cold rain drips.

Somebody's laughter passes drunkenly. 1".

The dolls of love and hate are laid to rest. They do not hear the striking of the clocks, These actors shut for ever in their box, Once lovely mediums of tear and jest. The curtain has descended to the floor, And on the stage the dancers leap no more.

CLIFFORD DYNENT.