29 NOVEMBER 1963, Page 11

The Nightmare

The nameless horror of the night, Though it hold the heart in fear, Vanishes at morning clear, Yielding to the growing light.

But oh, the sorrow of the soul, Wasted years and folly done Even in the noonday sun Still remains unchanged and whole.

Some hold that life is but a dream Vanishing at break of day; If so, life's sorrows pass away, And for the moment falsely seem.

But nightmare horrors still remain While the hours of darkness last; To quench remembrance of the past All philosophy is vain.