10 JANUARY 1925, Page 14

1 3 _0 ETRy

A MEMORY

I HAVE no memory of his face,

A bearded man or smooth and bare ;

I never heard my mother call My father either dark or fair.

All I remember is a coat

Of velvet, buttoned on his breast ; Where I, when tired of fingering it, Would lay my childish head and rest.

His voice was low and seldom heard, His body small—I've heard it said ; But his hoarse cough made children think Of monsters growling to be fed.

If any children took that road, And heard my father coughing near, They whispered, " Hist ! Away, away— There's some big giant lives in there ! "

W. H. DAVIES.