24 MARCH 1933, Page 15

Poetry

The Bride

IF sorrow knock upon the heart, Be wise and give her entry free, Lift up the latch and carry her Across the threshold tenderly, As bride is carried ; be to her As groom, all eager to obey : If she bids you weep, 0 weep Rather than say her nay.

She came to me, I shut the door, Fear drew the bolt. I let her lie Outside in darkness. Many hours I listened, silent, to her cry.

And when the morn was come with moan, Beat like a knell within my brain The very words she would have hushed, Who in my arms bad all night lain.

For none who takes a maid to wife Denies her place to lay her head. And bitterer than any guest Are sighs unspoke and tears unshed.

MONK GIBBON.