19 MARCH 1910, Page 18

POETRY.

MOOR FIRES.

Go, Shepherds, light the heather, And where it flowers in flame, On every blazing hilltop, A conqueror proclaim.

Your fires a chosen people Shall guide the pole-star way, With torch to cleave at midnight, With cloudy shaft by day.

Encompassing the valley They leap, a ruddy ring, And mark on edge and upland The bivouacs of Spring.

Go, Shepherds, fire the heather,

For where it flares and dies,

Spring's smoky banners streaming, Shall stain the noonday skies.

MAGNA PEASE,