POEMS OLD AND NEW

" Take my drum to England, hang et by the shore,
Strike et when your powder's runnin' low ;

If the Dons sight Devon, I'll quit the port o' Heaven,
An9 drum them up the Channel as we drummed
them long ago.53

Drake he's in his hammock till the great Armadas

come,

(Capten, art tha sleepin' there below ?),
Slung atween the round shot, listenin' for the drum,

An' dreamin' arl the time o' Plymouth Hoe.
Call him on the deep sea, call him up the Sound,

Call him when ye sail to meet the foe ; 10

Where the old trade's plyin' an' the old flag flyin'
They shall find him ware an' wakin', as they found
him long ago !

SIR HENRY NEWBOLT

THE HAWK
THE hawk slipt out of the pine, and rose in the sunlit air:
Steady and still he poised ; his shadow slept on the
grass :
And the bird's song sickened and sank : she cowered
with furtive stare
Dumb, till the quivering dimness should flicker and
shift and pass.
Suddenly down he dropped : she heard the hiss of
his wing,
Fled with a scream of terror : oh, would she had
dared to rest !
For the hawk at eve was full, and there was no bird
to sing,
And over the heather drifted the down from a bleed-
ing breast. 2o
A. C. BENSON
136