21 JANUARY 1944, Page 11

UNKNOWN WARRIOR IN alien hills his lying eye

Traced outlines of his northern fells And built the church across the lake From sullen peals of foreign bells.

His dreams were faithful: a few miles Held all the earth he ever knew, Some home-spun faces, weather lined, The farm, and then an inn or two.

His grave is by a lonely palm - He ploughs an unknown land

And dreams maybe more easily Below the quiet sand.

NORMAN HAMPSON.