30 APRIL 1954, Page 11

Who is the Fairest of them All ?

I am the stranger in your home, stranger than any stranger in the street, I am the hated whom you love, Your desolate hater.

Mine is the mask in the glass on the wall, the idiot you'll not own.

Poor I, generation of the sphinx,

condemn you to bore me for ever with your chatter of money and wives, Your chiming laughter, and carefully turned profile. I ignore the endless humiliation of your honesty

applied at night, alone—

sure soon you will consult the record of my face. My bitterness must burp, surely,