POETRY.

THE ONLY SON, WHO'LL love and comfort you, mother of mine,

Should I never return and be killed in the war P If you've died like a man as your father before Then you'll live in. my heart, son of mine.

Who'll build my shell for me, mother of mine P

The shipwrights have driven the rivets to seal A wonderful coffin of armour-plate steel,

Your shell will be strong, son of mine.

Who'll sing the hymns for me, mother of mine P Ai white-surpliced choir of sea-birds overhead Will hover and sing for you hymns for the dead, Your choir will sing well, son of mine.

Who'll drag the hearse for me, mother of mine?

Near ten thousand horses will drive in your team, For the boilers will quiver with well-harnessed steam, Your team will be strong, son of mine.

Who'll toll the bell for me, mother of mine ?

An invisible hand will be tolling time boll ; As your sinking ship rocks in the long, oily swell Your bell will be rung, son, of mine.

Who'll dig my grave for me, mother of mine P

Your grave will be dug in the soft, shingly sand

By the waves that are moved by time silver moon's hand, Your rave will be deep, son of mine, Who'll place the wreaths for me, mother of mine P

The shells and sea-plants of the cold ocean bed Will fashion a garland to cover your head,

Your wreaths will be there, son of mine.

Who'll weep and mourn for me, mother of mine; No one will mourn for you, no one will weep, When time waves of the ocean have rocked you to sleep 1'11 be proud that you died, son of mine.

T. B. D.