27 MARCH 1926, Page 16

POETRY

FICTION OLD ANI) NE VQr

I mourn the dead disparaged days (Victorian that I am),

When Fiction found us saints to praise, And villains dark to damn.

For now the hero sins so deep, The villain masks so well, I keep confounding goat with sheep, And scarce know heaven from hell.

When on the heroine's marble brow, Disfiguring doubts descend, I feel no glad assurance now

Of smooth harnioniou,s end..

A moneyed oaf may win the bride For whom the hero bled, And see his rival thrust aside, Duped and discredited.

Or if, at last, the tangled skein Is lookd, and love is free, A funeral knell may gloom the fane Where marriage bells should be.

And so I praise the naIver days, (Barbarian that I am), When Sinners' souls were set ablaze, Saints bosomed with Abraham.

Tiros. Trrortxtrx.