Fondouk Pass In Memory of Welshmen who fell at Fondouk THE bull, the stallion, your brothers, Jingle the trace of the morning. The reticent beak of the eagle, the oxen, They are beastly with power of mocking. Halter the mane of the earth eight hours, Steady the burning ikon, Resurrect Christ now carved in the sweating Smoke in the pass near Kasserine. There where your hides steamed Over the burnt, ironical mountain, To the chafing, sacrificial moon, That moon yawned above, rocking pain. All that last passionate dawn, Balefully sighing its poem, Consider the lilies of the field And go out and meet them. Welsh Guards, C.M.F. G. A. Wagner. The Vale of Clwyd RUSTLING silks of distant rain, Wash the valley's piping grass, And the pining of the brain, Pearls a splendour in the glass. Cuckoo singings nurture me, Nourish milk within the breast, Patter strings of swiftest sea, Curdle beaks which bite the nest. Harelip in the village street, Handbell's mot in eventime, Feel the vale and mountain meet, With incomparable mime. The South Wales Borderers. MERVYN LEVY.