2 NOVEMBER 1945, Page 10

THE SHIP

GIuEF encompasses the heart as water fits closely to a ship's adventurous prow vocal against the ribs of ocean's daughter tracing the plough's self-confidant furrow.

Grief fits snugly, frigid and complaining, around the light and music-ridden side close as a lover. Then we are beyond, sailing strongly and freely on a following tide.

Grief does not last : we cannot take it with us like happiness, but always it must slip astern at last, though new grief will replace it.

Wave after wave we master. Old and famous we ride the seas in our god-given ship until some shipping clerk writes " Lost in transit."

ALAN Rom.