6 JUNE 1931, Page 13

Poetry

Answer

Jr you leave me ? I shall not die Or make grief a trumpet To shatter the sky.

I shall not ask For anything more, But to walk according To natural lore, One foot behind The other before.

I shall rise at morning Sleep at night

Grope in darkness See in light, And tell unfailingly Black from white.

I shal use my brain To earn my bread, Snarl when hungry Smile well-fed, I shall not die ;

I shall be dead.

J. SIMON.