22 NOVEMBER 1902, Page 16

POETRY.

THE LOST PLAYMATE.

[C. C. B., NOVEMBER 21ST, 1900.] SIDE by side they sit on the shelf—

The Crab, the Cat that walked by Himself, The Elephant's child, the Kangaroo,

Dingo-Dog, and Taffimai too—

All shut up in a book and all (Especially Taffimai) dying to crawl Out through the leaves to talk and laugh With the little girl in the photograph.

For she was a little girl who knew Bagheera, Kaa, and the wise Baloo, And every wolf in Akela's clan, While Mowgli was her favourite man : And when they gathered around at night And told her tales in the red fire-light She'd twine her fingers about her knees And say: " That's lovely ! Another, please!"

For she was a "just so" little girl, And that's what makes them wriggle and twirl Their tails and whiskers—little 'stute Fish, Painted Jaguar and all—and wish

To scramble down, crying: " Listen to me-

1'm the Crab that played with the Sea ;

I'm the Camel ; and I'm the Djinn ; I'm the Rhino in my new skin—" And most of all does Taffimai want

To talk to that little girl, but can't Because, two short little years ago

She went to learn from the folks who know How it is that this beautiful world's "just so."

ARTHUR AUSTIN-JACKSON.