11 JUNE 1932, Page 16

The Flight

TIIE blocks are moved releasing her. She swings Speeding like wind across the grass-blown ground. Swift in the winter sunlight, wheeling round

She pauses, breathes and shivers through her winzs.

Then, rearing glory, into blue she sings Storming the heights of heaven, to astound The little world below confined and bound By old beliefs and dull imaginings.

Now we are hanging sideways in the sky, My heart beats sullenly as I descry The sulphur cities smoking in the plains And call to memory that Michael hurled, Forth from this lonely peace where beauty reigns, The lost Archangel on a driven world.

YVONNE FFRENCIE