22 FEBRUARY 1952, Page 13

Trip to Damascus

Fear is the great progenitor of anger, And fear finds ever nourishment in hunger ; I did not know that all my crushing fury Was born of nothing more than bitter envy And that I hungered more than any spare Old hermit chewing sour bread and prayer.

So when as tough as Saul I threw my curses Like hand-grenades or bad fruit at the faces Which held the secret of my rage and hunger, I was amazed when I could stand no longer, And sprawling heard a voice which bandaged pain,

And told me I would never starve again. '