15 AUGUST 1925, Page 16
POETRY
CROWNS
LOVE'S touch is soft, and Death Is gentle, when he takes
A sleeping child's light breath,
Before it wakes ; But neither Death nor Love Moves softer than I move.
Great is my ecstasy, Till generous I For common pence have sold
The -world my purest gold.
No man that's blind Has ears more quick to hear ; No man that's deaf and dumb Has eyes more sharp and clear.
No wonder then that kings, Envying the man who sings, Aspire to wear his crown And scorn their own ; No wonder kings aspire For crowns not made of gold,
Which—though Time's born a thief—
Escape his hold.
Two kings have won—
David and Solomon.
W. H. DAViES.