12 MARCH 1943, Page 7

"BELIEVED KILLED"

THE sun is slain, the clouds are scattered sheep So red that no Good Shepherd can delight In this vainglorious triumph of the night. A dog barks faintly. Do not angels weep Seeing the mist, like jumbled spectres, creep Over the meadows, and put out the sight Of nature? We, poor children of the light, Have had our day, and face our future—sleep.

So this was life—so little and so long : An eager start, sharp lessons, hazy plans Closed in the scarlet of a stranger's sins. Dark falls upon them with a crowning wrong—

The only peace that ever has been Man's. . . .

And, after dreams, another day begins. VANSITTART.