17 JUNE 1922, Page 14

POETRY.

ESTRANGED.

'PAM now the siren lurings ; vain The yellow-curtained cottage light. Austorest moods are mine this night And aching clangours of the brain.

Whence well these looming whims to-day ?

Truant from what primeval sleep Mind's flapping pterodactyls creep ? Will cock-crow scare these ghosts away ?

Not lonelier the weathervane Than lonely I; not Chanticleer, Immortal bellman, still spoor For strutting cock and dusty hen.

Body all reft my ghost this night Whips batlike through crooked orchard trees, Old cronies once ; now alien these I loved. Moon's blurry lantern light Half veils unveiling fanciful Long barns, grey stacks ; those all I knew Now know not me. A wail, ghost too, Flutters unecheed over all.

F. W. BATESON.