For he who loves me grown
Knew not the child you'll ne'er forget;
I give her for your own.

Oh, keep her young within your breast,
Allow her to survive;
For love of you _I'll_ do my best
To keep your child alive.


* * * * *


FRANCIS MEYNELL


_ANY STONE_

A myriad years God toiled to mould
A nerveless stone to His intent--
From peace to war, from heat to cold,
It triumphed against the Omnipotent:
God strove until His strength grew old,
Then cried "Thy help, My firmament!"

The stars in succour gave their light,
The aiding moon her ocean-sway;
At dawn and dusk the hosts of night
Watched round the battle-fires of day ...
To set the dust He loved aright