14 APRIL 1928, Page 18

Poetry

Quiet

I SOUGHT the quiet- the wood On bracken-beddin under trees ;

To loiter in the copse was good, And oh, the Sallow's gold ! The bees, Susceptible to scented boughs,

To sweet dregs drained from dewy bloom,

With ceaseless murmur came to browse And carry scented honey 'home.

Tale wind-flowers daneing in their glee

Filled all the wood with Pink and white ; And primroses under every tree Are cirrus falPn for 'our delight. The willow-wrens and blue-tits troop To find the insects as they need :— So let not then my spirits droop

When here is merry Spring indeed;

C. D. L.