19 JANUARY 1945, Page 11

LONDON SNOW

THEY say The days are now getting longer and lighter,

But it doesn't look like it ; I can hardly see to write, And it is getting darker Every moment.

The sky is yellow, So the snow looks almost blue ; My eyes ache And my words are a blur of nonsense.

Snow is so irritating Because when it gets anywhere It has the air of getting there Entirely by mistake, Like an absent-minded philosopher. Now rain always means to get there, And does.

Snow is so gentle, It has no place in grimy towns Where only the strong survive. It hesitates, And that, of course, is fatal. And by and by it retires Very reluctantly, Because it is not a success. •

GRACE STRONG.