18 OCTOBER 1924, Page 14

POETRY.

SURPRISE EPITAPH ON A VICTORIAN POET-REVIEWER.

REST Rest Your dissonance is done, Brain in the grave, and the sands run. No more fiat triumphs paid with tears, No more log-rolling of bad spheres. Bitterness silenced, boycott done, Brain in the grave, and the sands run.

But something stays above the ground That ages hence shall men astound,— The achievement you so wisely planned When your little harp was in your hand,--A song or two to thrill the wire, The expression of the soul's desire ; And something true, and noble, and fine

That veined your prose with life divine

In two little volumes written deep When your dissonant mind was half asleep.

The reviewer was stilled •; but the poet wen; And your harp is hanging over the sun.

J4çfl5,r E. PALMER.