1 DECEMBER 1928, Page 12

Poetry

Dahlias

DAHLIAS you come too late, the mirth is over, Do you not see the pageant has passed by ? Gone is the music, lover fled with lover, And the dark garden hushed beneath the sky.

Your rubies glow along the dusky borders, You spill your tourmalines and amethysts ; Rash Dahlias, of your treasure you're no hoarders Who squander beauty on the autumn mists.

Do you not see the swallows all are banished, The lawns deserted and the paths unwept ;* The revellers gone, and the last minstrel vanished ? Do you not see the small stone faun has wept ?

D. M. HOLLAND.