3 JANUARY 1925, Page 22

POETRY,

A FAREWELL

SAY nothing. There is no need.

I saw your 'finger flick the ash ;

I watched your furtive little deed—

The flung medallion ; I heard it splash Daintily, featherlike, in the water.

A keepsake ? Do I seem brokenhearted ?

My dear, I'm but a poet, a reporter.

My heart makes copy. Ink has started !

RICITAND Crnincn.