7 NOVEMBER 1931, Page 11

The Hill

IN the heather-dips on either side

The fallen winds persist ;

The big grey bird with the long neb

Wheels and cries in the mist ; The moorland river tumbles down With its black peaty load ; The moorfowl and the darting snipe Cry themselves over the road ; In the swirling mist the sheepfolds cling To the dark face of the hill ; The wild duck skreaks behind the rath And drops into a rill.

LYLE DONA° II Y.