The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

Ll Al Maitlzmd EAST WIND . By mzmm ANNE SAXON HE SMOKE drifts westward from the chimney pots In torn grey scarves against an evening sky 0! primrose yellow, and a first star dots The tall church steeple, while a passerby Clutches his hat and burrows into Wind That will be shaking shutters, creaking trees, And soughing down our chimney! I can find A cartain beauty in such things as these, And in the round soft globes of light the streEt Puts forth all of a sudden, like a bloom of warmth and colour for my hastening feet, Or gold Chrysanthemums in an empty room. A little beauty well may he a feast On bitter eves when winds are from the east!