A MIDDLE-AGED farm-labourer lived here, And loved his wife ; paid rent to hard eternity Six barren years, till thomtree-blessed she bore A son with a bird's glint, and wheat-straw hair.
Sweet life! Yet neither boasted.
The boy was a tassel flown by gaunt serenity, Hedge banner in the September of the War.
A jettisoned bomb fell ; at noonday there, Where take my dusty oath a cottage stood ; Death-pierced the rind they knew, and killed that COM Too rare, before a wonder had been wasted.
Great with unspendable centuries of maternity, 1.• "At least he had struac seven," she said, "this year — "
Of different grace ; of blood.
The man looks bent ; yet neither girds at God, Remembering. -it was beautiful while it lasted.
LILIAN Bown LYON.