26 FEBRUARY 1921, Page 15

POETRY.

CREDO.

Wan is the end, then? Not a sigh, a kiss, A memory, a tear, a 'gabbing breath?—

Hearts proud as oars- can stoop to no such death;

Our royal State can scarce descend to this.

Not thus, Most Dear, shall we each other miss; Ours is the earth, its sorrow and its pride, We are an army marching side by side On to -innumerable victories.

Tour laughter .and any tears, my tears, -your laughter— These things are life; these• live; these shall not pass Whilst we two live, who are so living, yet.

And if were tired at night, well, sleep comes af ter-

Sleen,gentle as the swaying of long grass

In a cool meadow which salt winds leave wet. Mortal:an &exams.