15 DECEMBER 1950, Page 14

The Novelist

You, who have a small share of me, Are a part of my life And apart from my life.

You, who are seldom aware of me Except as a friend, Accept as a friend My trial and warning—friends, beware of me.

Our friendly agreement's a contradiction On any terms In many terms.

You talk and I listen, You talk and I lessen Your thoughts in dead dramatic diction, Into paper words, Into pauper words.

I turn your dear lives into fiction.

My friends, my shadow of words, my " onlie begetters," (That is, for the moment), the alien pranks Of unwonted humility, Unwanted humility, Suddenly tease me to know you better, To know my betters, myself your debtor, And, in a word, End in a word, Thanks. INNES Itncnir.