5 APRIL 1913, Page 20

POETRY.

MAGDALEN.

SILENT amid the clashing years she stands, Time-mellowed sentinel of the drowsy hours, Girt with her sleeping stream, and sweet with flowers, Fairer than all the blooms of alien lands. Round her still feet stretch up the yearning hands Of children passed from her to stranger towers, Lashed by the furious rage of tropic showers That fret the surges on unfriendly sands.

Madonna—we are passed beyond our tears : Our innocence is gone—yet through the years One throbbing echo ever wanes and swells.

Think you your children ever can forget ?

Our Lady of the Lilies holds us yet, And through our dreams still ring the Magdalen Bells.

REGIN.A.LD GERY.