29 DECEMBER 1928, Page 11

Poetry

The Blue Wind of the Yangtse Valley

THE blue wind from the lake Blows, and over me

Sad showers of leaves fall To cover me.

Sorrow is in the blue wind ; There is none to greet now ; And nobody walks by the lotus On dainty feet now.

Only the wide-winged cranes Fly out of the sunset, While I, in my quilted coat Wait winter's onset.

I will set a silver lamp In the ly-chee shadows, And forget that spring ever was Sweet in these meadows.

HAMISH MACLAREN.