19 MAY 1923, Page 14

POETRY.

WILD BIRDS.

(Fox H.) Moon cock and hen by night Lover by lover lies ; They give each other delight With their sweet, quiet cries.

Man were a fool to doubt, Love is so sweet a thing, That they, day in and day out, Must rustle wing on wing.

'Yet in that giddy space When the sacred moon comes full They leave their rushes and chase Two fleet moons round their pool ; Then, hearts rapt with wild thought, Wild eyes turned from wild eyes, Two crooked red legs flung out, They dance, till the sun rise.

SCHUYLER B. JACKSON.