15 NOVEMBER 1940, Page 11

CORNISH ACRES

Tons is the field that looks to the south: No words come to my mouth To signify my dread Of this field of the dead.

This is that field where on a time Hope died in me,

Even as I looked out upon The gay and smiling sea.

The blue and bitter southern sea Laughed back at me and said "Have you any recruits for me From the field of the dead?"

Over the dark and echoing woods

I heard the bell toll nine, And then I knew full well The augury was mine.

0 moving finger of time that writes My name in water, on the sea, Pause yet awhile upon this slope Remembering me. A. L. Rows&