25 MAY 1929, Page 21

Poetry

Friends Unborn WITH this one friend—I ask no mere—

To love me till I die, I sing my songs that, after death, My friends may multiply.

To make this world, when I am gone,

Think all the more of me—

Each time a rainbow's in the sky, Or bird is on a tree.

That God may say, when I am judged- " This sinner did his duty : Who made men worship me the more, By his great love of beauty." W. IL Davies.