POETRY.
TO A YOUNG ATHLETE KILLED IN THE WAR.
[Lines suggested by a Latin version of Mr. Housman's poem, "Smart Lad to Slip Betimes Away" (A Shropshire Lad), written by a schoolboy In his last term before war broke out. Like many intelligent boys, he had prescience of the war and what it might mean.] DEAR lad, and did you think, and smile, When turning into Latin style
The poet's sad ironic song, 'Twould bo your epitaph ere long ?
Yet 'twas not yours to slip away From fields where " records " have their day ; But from a sterner, friendlier place Where all true runners win the rata The laurel may be withered now Schoolmates bound upon your brow ; But England's rose that wreathed your sword Is fresh from English blood outpour'd.
So step across the sill of light, And join your comrades of the fight, Who won and held and guard from shame
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