21 OCTOBER 1911, Page 17

POETRY.

NIGHT-BORN.

Tits fairest blossom of the light Was nurtured in the womb of night, An alien to the sun ; And to her bosom night must need.

Re-call each love-selected seed When blossom-time is done.

And we—by baptism of sleep Her children—waken but to keep The memory of her charms And promises that ne'er too soon, Despite the blandishments of noon, Restore us to her arms.

ROT jACESOIF..