17 AUGUST 1944, Page 8


IT is not the music alone, but the strange commingling. The drawing together, entwining of separate threads To form one luminous pillar, vibrantly tingling,

Beneath the flower-calyx balanced above our heads, Many-petalled, receptive, where sound with colour weds• There the music reposes, clear as though drifted Into a vessel of light, whence i• flows down Through every filament drawn from hearts uplifted, Filters into each chalice from •the surmounting crown Slowly, in wordless absorption welcomed, to sink and dre.wa• So from the Flower of Sound upborne on music's tide Each heart-flower drinks and is revivified.