1 JANUARY 1927, Page 20
Poetry
Earth and Her Daughter
CHILD of mine, close to me,
What is it you dream ?- I would I were a willow-tree By a still stream.
Child of mine, tell your need, Speak to me, my daughter.— I would be the river weed Under the running water.
Mother earth, dear mother, I am tired of pain.- 0 to be the red clover Drenched in the rain.
Child of mine, I have power To heal and to save.— Change me to a wild flower Growing on his grave.
M. E. ASKINS.