22 SEPTEMBER 1917, Page 16

Calling all the hounds of Finn Must be in a

lark's nest born When the moon is very thin.

I, who have the gift, can hear

Hounds and horn and tally-ho, And the tongue of Bran as clear

An Christmas bells across the snow.

And beside my secret place Hurries by the fairy fox, With the moonrise on his face, Up and down the mossy rocks.

Then the music of a horn, And the flash of scarlet men— Thick as poppies in the corn— All across the dusky glen.

Oh! the mad delight of chase!

Oh! the shouting and the cheerl Many an owl cloth leave his place In the dusty tree to hear.