3 MAY 1902, Page 14

POETRY.

THE CHILD'S GRAVE. WE let his grave return to grass. Sweet grass in shine and showers, Where the winds sing, the shadows Wraps that lost lamb of ours.

Oh, why should Earth so kind and mild

Be burdened with a stone Because our darling little child Sleeps there alone, alone ?

He has the fields, the daisies dear, The larks that spurn the sod, A little river sings a-near The ancient house of God.

We left the silken grass to wave Above his darling head, And bade the Earth forget one grave Of all her millions dead. KATHARINE TYNAN.