20 AUGUST 1943, Page 9

PARADE

EVEN in exile there are living moments. Robinson Crusoe looked from his stockade Past all the poor things that he had made (His sure prosaic pride) in sudden boredom

With everything except the sense of freedom Of ocean breakers, lacing every shade Of turquoise, aquamarine and glittering jade With white, obliterating the dull currents Of his small faithful stream ; so, on parade In this dim cobbled channel between mills I look beyond the immobile stockade Of khaki caps and shoulders at the hills, A short clear strip above the street-end roof And free white clouds out of a former life.

R. N. CURREY.