12 SEPTEMBER 1931, Page 10

Poetry

Flesh and Stone

SHE was buxom,

He was young ; She said " When I have dished the dinner and washed the plates I will come, Ye know, and sit be the side of the road," Afternoon . . . . long sunshine . . . . He held her close and he kissed her, The long green grasses were all bent, And she laid her hand on a stone.

The stone tells a tale Of a young man shot by night, Shot at sight, A tragic, Black-and-Tan tale.

She grumbled " 'Tis a cold, old stone."

Oh stone, Do you turn, Do you sigh, Do you tremble, do you yearn?

Better cold and alone.

. . . . Stone, LENNOX ROBINSON.