20 SEPTEMBER 1924, Page 13

POETRY.

TO A PSYCHO-ANALYST.

[Extempore effusion by a plain man on hearing that his dreams and past mental processes could be, and should be, sought out, analyzed, and catalogued for future use.] LIFE is a game of cards,—some red, some black.

For each new deal I take a clean, new pack, Feeling no sense of pleasures or of grievings Who cuts or shuffles with my dirty leavings.

So take my dreams and thoughts, or good or ill, Name them from Oedipus or whom you will.

Futile or foolish will your record be.

it has no meaning for this present me.

IGNOTU8.