2 MAY 1931, Page 19

Green Song

TELLING of patient love, The jewel fidelity,

The voice of a wild dove Ripples. Such love hath she.

Of the slow rounding faith, Promise, Paradise, Nought the light bird saith Who cuckoo cries ; Who, while songs acclaim Those sapphire depths unseen, Trumpets her mortal name " Cuckoo " through the green ; Who, when the green floods all, Green glamour receives, Tossing her emerald ball Among clear-shining leaves.

Delicately, afar It hails, melts gurgling, flows Where tender pastures are.

Cuckoo ! the green grass grows.

GERTRUDE WOODTHORPE.