15 JUNE 1912, Page 18

POETRY.

• HOUSEHOLD GODS.

THE Baby takes to her bed at night A one-eyed rabbit that once-was white ; A watch that came from a cracker, I think ; And a lidless inkpot that never held ink. And the secret is locked in her tiny breast Of why she loves these and leaves the rest.

And I give a loving glance as I go To three brass pots on a shelf in a row ; To my grandfather's grandfather's loving-cup And a bandy-legged chair 1 once picked up.

And I can't, for the life of me, make you see Why just these things are a part of me !

J. H. Msonlin.-