6 SEPTEMBER 1924, Page 15

POETRY.

TORCHBEARER.

I SAW your hands lying at peace

at last, and I thought of Helen's hands that were not lovelier than these, yet live in all men's minds.

And I thought " Beauty is not trapped

even in this delicate

dust, these hands, but was shaped elsewhere inviolate."

And I thought " There is one mould, and these hands, in beauty set, pass the torch, lit from of old, to hands that are not yet."

Therefore I do not bid farewell, torchbearer ! for you belong.

now to the imperishable foundation of song.

IITMLUZAT WOLFS.