23 JULY 1932, Page 16

Zero Hour

Now it is time to strike a new pass to the sun, be perilous, a hawk, to fear no one.

That shrapnel shell the Spring explodes its mass of flowers, while birds, winged raiders, scouting prepare for zero hour.

Comrade, step forward then and, cheering, to attack : • t like cloud, death's armies thicken across the objective, dark.

RICHARD GOODMANI,