21 JUNE 1913, Page 18



(A Kitten-Buried of Bea.)

NOT in a garden of rose and lily Where the bee and the blackbird play, Not in a cloistered crypt and:chilly Under the minster grey;

But-under the faitand open Heaven, Longitude fifty, latitude seven,

The wind in the eaet•and the hour eleven, Peter was laid away.

A dirge for Peter, son of the morning, A dirge for Peter, infant of dears, Snatched from the sun with never a warning, Plunged in the nether ways:

Down whete the fearsome deep-sea cattle Stare and terrify, rend and battle, And,tha.lnmes of long-lost mariners rattle,

Poor little Peter strays. And yet, down there,—tbere can be no .telling

And a mortal may not know—

A kindlier folk may keep their dwelling Where a little cat could go:

And he must have met with the Sea-King's rangers, Aye on the watch for land-born strangers

To guide their feet through the deep-sea dangers:— At least let us have it so.

So now he lives upon lordly dishes, Sleeps on a princely mat, Hunts all day for the little fishes, Waxes exceeding fat ; And courtiers cry to him—sorely smitten By Peter's claws, and probably bitten-•- " Hail, oh Peter ! a land-child's kitten, Peter, the Sea-King's Cat C. HILTON BROWN.