OTHER SONNETS: Three Sonnets of Love 49 The Reply 52 God Gave us Bodies 53 Ronsard and Hélène 54 The Drift of the Lute 55 Love and Beauty 56 WAR VERSE: V. D. F. 59 England 60 The Moon in Flanders 61 The Soldier Speaks 62 Flowers at Hampton Court 63 [Illustration: text decoration] TO J. LONDON PSEUDO-SONNETS. Some of these verses have appeared in _The Saturday Review_, _The Spectator_, _The Westminster Gazette_, and are republished by the courtesy of the editors of these journals. THE OLD CLOTHES DEALER. It’s not my fault, now is it? I’m a Jew. I’d a been born a Christian quick enough If only so I could have sold my stuff Double the price, and not be called a screw. There’s half-day Saturday at Synagogue, And when Atonement comes a whole day lost. O, I don’t grumble; still one counts the cost When on the top I’m treated like a dog. And, though a Jew should’nt by rights complain Bein’ the chosen, can’t a man have dreams? Clothes’ dealing’s not the desert, still it seems We all of us are wandering again. I often think when the Shemah begins “O God o’ Jacob ain’t we paid our sins?” COVES AT HAMPTON COURT. You go by motor-bus from Hammersmith And come back loud and cheerful after dark Adorned with twigs you’ve plucked in Bushey Park, Eating the sandwiches you started with. And you don’t care, why should you? when you’re brought Into the grimy streets out of the green, That, if you’d had the luck, you might have been The sort of cove who lives at Hampton Court. You’ve got the murders and the betting news, And slums to bake in and the picture shows. Why should you care if somewhere a red rose Burns all night through, and the great avenues Are lit as though with candles. What’s the odds? London’s for you; the summer’s for the gods. ONE MAN RETURNS.