Low among the alders lie their derelict foundations, The beams wherein they trusted and the plinths whereon they built

My rulers and their treasure and their unborn populations, Dead, destroyed, aborted, and defiled with mud and silt!

The Daughters of the Palace whom they cherished in my Cities,

My silver-tongued Princesses, and the promise of their MayTheir bridegrooms of the June-tide—all have perished in my Cities,

With the harsh envenomed virgins that can neither love nor play.

I was Lord of Cities-I will build anew my Cities,
Seven, set on rocks, above the wrath of any flood.

Nor will I rest from search till I have filled anew my Cities
With peoples undefeated of the dark, enduring blood.

To the sound of trumpets shall their seed restore my Cities
Wealthy and well-weaponed, that once more may I behold
All the world go softly when it walks before my Cities,
And the horses and the chariots fleeing from them as of old!

THE RETURN OF THE CHILDREN

NEITHER the harps nor the crowns amused, nor the cherubs' dove-winged races

Holding hands forlornly the Children wandered beneath the Dome,

Plucking the splendid robes of the passers by, and with pitiful faces

Begging what Princes and Powers refused:-"Ah, please will you let us go home?"

Over the jewelled floor, nigh weeping, ran to them Mary the Mother,

Kneeled and caressed and made promise with kisses, and drew them along to the gateway

Yea, the all-iron unbribeable Door which Peter must guard and none other.

Straightway She took the Keys from his keeping, and opened and freed them straightway.

Then, to Her Son, Who had seen and smiled, She said: "On the night that I bore Thee,

What didst Thou care for a love beyond mine or a heaven that was not my arm?

Didst Thou push from the nipple, O Child, to hear the angels adore Thee?

When we two lay in the breath of the kine?" And He said:"Thou hast done no harm.”

So through the Void the Children ran homeward merrily hand in hand,

Looking neither to left nor right where the breathless Heav ens stood still.

And the Guards of the Void resheathed their swords, for they heard the Command:

"Shall I that have suffered the Children to come to Me hold them against their will?"

MERROW DOWN

I

THERE runs a road by Merrow Down—
A grassy track to-day it is-

An hour out of Guildford town,
Above the river Wey it is.

Here, when they heard the horse-bells ring,
The ancient Britons dressed and rode
To watch the dark Phoenicians bring
Their goods along the Western Road.

Yes, here, or hereabouts, they met

To hold their racial talks and suchTo barter beads for Whitby jet,

And tin for gay shell torques and such.

But long and long before that time. (When bison used to roam on it) Did Taffy and her Daddy climb

That Down, and had their home on it.

Then beavers built in Broadstonebrook
And made a swamp where Bramley stands;
And bears from Shere would come and look
For Taffimai where Shamley stands.

The Wey, that Taffy called Wagai,
Was more than six times bigger then;
And all the Tribe of Tegumai
They cut a noble figure then!

II

Of all the Tribe of Tegumai

Who cut that figure, none remain,On Merrow Down the cuckoos cryThe silence and the sun remain.

But as the faithful years return
And hearts unwounded sing again,
Comes Taffy dancing through the fern
To lead the Surrey spring again.

Her brows are bound with bracken-fronds
And golden elf-locks fly above;
Her eyes are bright as diamonds
And bluer than the sky above.

In mocassins and deer-skin cloak,
Unfearing, free and fair she flits,
And lights her little damp-wood smoke
To show her Daddy where she flits.

For far-oh, very far behind,
So far she cannot call to him,
Comes Tegumai alone to find

The daughter that was all to him!

OLD MOTHER LAIDINWOOL

OLD Mother Laidinwool had nigh twelve months been

dead.

She heard the hops was doing well, an' so popped up her

head,

For said she: "The lads I've picked with when I was young

and fair,

They're bound to be at hopping and I'm bound to meet 'em there!"

Let me up and

go

Back to the work I know, Lord!

Back to the work I know, Lord!

For it's dark where I lie down, My Lord!

An' it's dark where I lie down!

Old Mother Laidinwool, she give her bones a shake,
An' trotted down the churchyard-path as fast as she could

make.

She met the Parson walking, but she says to him, says she:— "Oh don't let no one trouble for a poor old ghost like me!"

'Twas all a warm September an' the hops had flourished grand,

She saw the folks get into 'em with stockin's on their hands; An' none of 'em was foreigners but all which she had known, And old Mother Laidinwool she blessed 'em every one.

She saw her daughters picking an' their childern them-beside, An' she moved among the babies an' she stilled 'em when they cried.

She saw their clothes was bought, not begged, an' they was clean an' fat,

An' Old Mother Laidinwool she thanked the Lord for that.

Old Mother Laidinwool she waited on all day
Until it come too dark to see an' people went away—
Until it come too dark to see an' lights began to show,
An' old Mother Laidinwool she hadn't where to go.

Old Mother Laidinwool she give her bones a shake, An' trotted back to churchyard-mould as fast as she could make.

She went where she was bidden to an' there laid down her ghost,

An' the Lord have mercy on you in the Day you need it most!

Let me in again,

Out of the wet an' rain, Lord!

Out of the wet an' rain, Lord!

For it's best as You shall say, My Lord!

An' it's best as You shall say!