C. Conway Plumbe

“ And let 'em pray by any name;
And so we left enough alone,
But learnt 'em plenty all the same;
We show'd 'em what they should be shown,
And tried to play the decent game.
For all our work we've not got much? ”

“ A DEBT OF HONOUR.
[The author would be very proud if his lines might bring in any subscriptions to the Belgian Relief Fund. Cheques, payable to "Belgian Relief Fund," should be sent to the Belgian Minister, 15 West Halkin Street, S.W.]
Old England's dark o'nights and short
Of 'buses; still she's much the sort
Of place we always used to know.
There's women lonely—hid away,
But mills at work and kids at play,
And docks alive with come and go. ”

“ Old mother mine, at times I find
Pauses when fighting's done
That make me lonesome and inclined
To think of those I left behind—
And most of all of one.
At home you're knitting woolly things
They're meant for me for choice ”