14 AUGUST 1920, Page 17

POETRY.

THE MOON.

WHAT have you not seen

Old White-face, looking down Since the heaven was hollowed out And winds were blown?

You saw White Helen On the walls of Troy Town, You silvered dew on the ruin When Troy shook down.

Ulysses you saw And the strange seas that bore him, But all he wandered to see You had seen before him.

Bodies black and yellow,

Gold tresses and brown, The brown earth covers them And you look down. F. W. HARVEY.