21 SEPTEMBER 1945, Page 10

I THOUGHT I HEARD A BIRD

I thought I heard a bird—

Lying in my room in the heart of the city . . ■ And then I sensed

Pressing upon me in that denser air The light of all past worlds gone down in ruin Blazing upon the pictures and pale walls: The heat of generations burning there And death's intenser cold. Despair, despair The energies of thought and hope and terror Beat in the confines of the room like fever All, all in motion through eternity All, all, forever in my darkening room . . .

But, 0, lying on my bed in the heart of the city I thought I heard the song of a living bird.

SHEILA §HANNON.