15 JUNE 1918, Page 12

PO E TRY.

STONEHENGE.

GAUNT on the cloudy plain Stand the great Stones, Dwarfed in the vast reach Of a sky that owns All the measure of earth Within its cloud-hung cave.

Dumb stands the Circle As on a God's grave.

But clattering with horses Up from the valley, With horses and horsemen, At a trot, gaily Dragging the limbered guns Youth comes riding,— Easy sits, mettlesome Horses bestriding.

Fast come the twinkling hoofs, Light wheels and guns, Invading the upland, And sweep past the Stones.

Giant those shapes now Over them tower,— Time's dark stature Over youth's fleet hour.

Ribs of dismemoried Earth, Guard what you may The Immortals also Pass, nor stay. LAURENCE BINTON•