1 JANUARY 1927, Page 20

Poetry

Earth and Her Daughter

CHILD of mine, close to me,

What is it you dream ?- I would I were a willow-tree By a still stream.

Child of mine, tell your need, Speak to me, my daughter.— I would be the river weed Under the running water.

Mother earth, dear mother, I am tired of pain.- 0 to be the red clover Drenched in the rain.

Child of mine, I have power To heal and to save.— Change me to a wild flower Growing on his grave.

M. E. ASKINS.