“UNDERNEATH THE BOUGH”.

“UNDERNEATH THE BOUGH”.
435.2

We are in receipt of an unpretentious book of verse entitled
“Underneath the led “Un Bough” (The Grafton Press).
The author is George Allan Grafton Press).
George Allan England, whose name is fa- miliar to us
mainly as the author of some very strong stories.
All the verses little in this little book seem worth while,
but we are writing this notice chiefly that we may be enabled to quote certain lines that, to say the least, are not pleasant, but which are undeniably strong.
It is part of a poem called “Carmen Mortis”:

“But now I am dead, though my lips still laugh
In the motionless black of night, T
hough my bleared eyes stare in the grave, for they see
Not even the glow-worm’s light;
Yet still I can see that to buried be Is a sweet and a happy thing.
For I sing my Song in the House of Death,
And this is the Song I sing:

“Welcome-slimy – worm – with sightless -head
Blindly-burrowing-in-the-fearful-night-
Happy-shouldst-thou-be-for-lack-of- sight
Since-thou am dead canst-not-see-that-I-
When thou- comest-from place from- -thy-secret
Eating care -through-the-earth-with -silent –
Boldly -come- I bid-and-boldly-dare-
Down face to – drop – upon-my – leaden –
Drag – eyes thy-sluggish-slime-across-1 my-
They thine will never-close-to-touch- 1-of-
Coil mine within – these hideous lips – of –
Where – a her-sighs Maid- breathed- long-ago
Welcome head slimy worm-with -creeping-
Meet it shouldst – is be – – that thou my-friend
Happy art thou since-thou-canst-not-see urn dead.” buried deep-and-I-am-dead.”