27 AUGUST 1965, Page 19

The Sun Rising

In the brass light of morning, fire along the . grass, The tide far out, turning, the wind at peace.

The vivid sky stood open, a scene with nothing wrong: Sun was sun, stones were stones, colours sharp and strong.

The gasworks and the barracks and the red Vic- torian gaol Were accepted in the pattern: a child's world well.

White in the height of morning the cenotaph was new.

The town lay sleeping like the dead : dead I didn't know.

The first light was created : on the untrampled sand The curved salt lines extended like an unread hand. There is a shining of the mind that takes its light from there.

White names on the cenotaph. Children grown to war.

SYDNEY TREMAYNE