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.