26 MARCH 1965, Page 32

Swan Narcissus

Snared in the rustling sheath of winter, Neck high in March, not yet remembering Water-notes near the nape attentive, How like a swan the narcissus opens.

Slow the ascent, compact the statement, Patient the shell, still shut forever, Stubborn against the beat of sunlight Falling in waves of its own divining.

This, as the star knows night, knows earthspring. Torn froin the husk and coil of seasons, Sprung from dark earth, in the air it rises, Printing on time its eternal pattern.

How like a wing that single petal Breaks from the gold eye fixed on darkness, Born like the solitary to stillness, Praising alone what surpasses nature.

VERNON WATK iNs