22 JUNE 1929, Page 13
Poetry
Sea Breeze
TALL grasses quiver On cliff's sheer edge And pale blue water Is brushed to red.
The white boat pitches And sails strain white, The tall wave catches The sun's strong light.
Sandpeeps whirl by, Looped cords of silver, "Why pry, why pry ? "
Their piping cry. FRANCES R. Mous.