3 FEBRUARY 1923, Page 16

POETRY.

THE VOICE OF STONE.

No slow-wrought doors In carven portico

Shield this poor ruin with defending art ; Across chill floors The winds of heaven blow Clutching the thin veils of my shrine apart.

Though its light has fled Shriek on, insatiable, Tearing them yet with hard bright be....ks of steel ; auests of the dead, Men, jackals, howl the knell Of that clear flame of love you cannot feel.

Grey stone, cold stone, Death within Life I stand, Yet, if that sacred lamp unbroken lie, One shade alone From all earth's shadow-land Might conjure fire therein, which should not die.

JAMES BENNETP.