18 DECEMBER 1953, Page 32

Venice

Cut into by doors The morning assumes night's burden, the houses Assemble in tight cubes.

From the palace flanking the waterfront She is about to embark, but pauses. Her dress is a veil of sound Extended upon silence.

Under the bridge, Contained by the reflected arc A tunnel of light Effaces walls, water, horizon.

Floating upon its own image A cortege of boats drifts through space.

CHARLES TOMLINSON