5 AUGUST 1922, Page 15

POETRY.

THE DANCING ANGEL. NARE D he, as smooth and fair As an old tusk, his hair

Was dense as ebony, and he Danced in delicate ecstasy.

Imagine a rich secret, some Close ritual unproved and dumb, Let your feet tell it to the ground And ring it down with subtle sound ; Let your bright hands, swift, swaying high, Tell it to the suspicious sky, But let your face light its surprise To pools and trees and peeping eyes, For hidden eyes may understand The strange significance of hand And foot, arm and ivory side, And be so brimmed with shining pride That they'll betray with every glance The tread of an eternal dance.

So he did move, and it was I

Who watched him with my hungry eye.

Ina GRAPE&