POETRY.
SIX DISTICliES.
IN AN OXFORD GARDEN.
Acaoss your lawns we watched a Shadow move t I called it Memory, and you called it Love.
THE FIRST EMBRACE.
'Tis dawn, and Eve the primal kiss bestows : Now every morn in. conscious crimson glows.
TO MADAME LOPOKOVA.
Joy flows from you, as from some happy morn When hearts make holiday,* and love is born.
THE HONEYMOON.
Enchanting and Enchanted at my side, She laughs a lover, and she smiles a bride.
ROMA LOCUTA EST.
(Lines written on a Roman Road in Merioneth.) Rome drove her pavement through the hills, and spoke, And Cnycht and Croiser shuddering owned the yoke.
FOR A CENOTAPH.
These do not need our praise, our prayers, our tears, We need their faith, their courage through the years.
J. ST. LOE STRACHRY.