14 MAY 1932, Page 11

Poetry

Bathers

And succumb in wrinkled wells

Of surf, flesh colours surprise us

Beside the harsh rocks, unthought thus Uncovered to slink so near.

As seaweed in slow time SO

Do their bodies move and the waves

Move. On the gloo lll i ll g rocks their glow Lowers when to garments they are

Their arms. The last be praised that shot, And the boot-tongue life and line To the pattern furnishes, wrapping it, Embalmed, away from the casualties Listed in our unsentient years.

lioNALD BOTTBA