22 FEBRUARY 1952, Page 6


A girl looked down from the skies ; The desolate, wintry ground Was her Kingdom, ancient, renowned, But no light was in her young eyes ; For that old King-maker, Death, Had summoned Elizabeth ; Summoned and sentenced her To a servitude for life, Her, a mother and wife, With the ripple of youth astir ; But " I am content," she said, And lifted'a proud young head.

L. E. J.