KEATS>$ GRAVE

(Wriiten wken itwas proposed .to make a high-noad oper ' ii)

Dust unto dust ? Ye are the dust of Timë Immortals, whose mortàlity ïs o'er* * . Names wrït in water once .— now eyermore Garved on remembering heafts in gold of rhyme. '■"

Whatthough above your headsthe pantomime

Of vulgar traffic clash with daily roar ?

™ i3Î e ? am ,$ loa ^ in life your .spirits bore,

The world's indifférence to soûls sublime; .

So ^, m , ai î kii l d ^oves on with ceaseless tread Iho the far goal yon mystic shadow bars - Along a road whose dust is heroes' lives,' ■. * ■"' "

Sacred no Iess the soil, than overhead

. That highway to whose end no, sig-ht arrives A nven road ablaze with dust of stars. . ' ' ■

G. -A. Greene, CHATTERTON IN HOLBORN

(Fragment) ' .

Perhaps, who knows, the hurrying tarons; •■ J .

Had hopeless signs for him • '• , I fancy how.he wandered long '

Until the light grew dîm.

The Windows saw him corne and pass And corne and go again; , ' And still the throng swept by— alas * ' The barren face of men.

And when the day was gone, the way

Led down to thé lethal deeps :

Sweet Life, what requiem to say ?

'Tis well, 'tis well, he sleeps. .

"Ernest Rhys.