11 JULY 1931, Page 18


The Slug

Go to the slug, thou antiquarian And mark his easy ways —The striped and sable opulence The silver largess of his trail Showing so plainly where he starts And how much his expense,

Then as you see his little feeling eyes

And boneless amiable approach His cowlike complacency And love of taking things lying down, Swoop from your sky and lift him furiously (His wife and children will look up surprised)

And tempt his curled and ebbing soul-

Over strange inlands, chasms, seas Till motion spent you let him drop A glistening lump to earth.

Then fly back home. Be sure he'll fall On soft and welcome ground. W. STONIER.