26 DECEMBER 1931, Page 18

Poetry

The Hounds by Night

SLOPE after slope to valley Descended into white,

Baptized by the long weeping Of the winter night.

Suddenly, without warning, They came, the still, the black Lost hounds following The winter's track.

Side by side, sinister In the snow's light, Grazing the snow in Their pointed flight Came closer, closer The ghostly pack, Straight of leg, lowered head, Straight of back.

FREDERIC PROROSCH.