26 AUGUST 1938, Page 20

TO ANNE HATHAWAY'S COTTAGE, SHOTTERY " ALONG this road that,

once a Tudor lane,

A magic heart held tremulous to desire Now runs a redness, like the brand of Cain, Of crudest brick-work—though through every shire Destruction blots our English beauty's shape, Could not the haunts of Shakespeare's love escape ?

GORELL