16 NOVEMBER 1912, Page 34

POETRY.

A.N OLD DOG.

Now that no shrill hunting horn Can arouse me at the morn, Deaf I lie the long day through, Dreaming firelight dreams of you; Waiting, patient through it all, Till the greater Huntsman. call.

If we are, as people say, But the creatures of a day, Let me live, when we must part, A little longer in your heart.

You were all the God I knew, I was-faithful unto you.

CELIA RUFFIN.