17 FEBRUARY 1950, Page 7

• Flood

THE stream, as modest as a vesper bell, Sings in its channel: only on each side The swathes of flattened grass remain to tell - _Of stone displaced, and concrete gaping wide: How bright as a jagged knife it leapt and gushed, How dark as a scooping mole thrust underground, Loud as a storm over broken bridges rushed, Quiet as sleep the cottage parlours drowned. G. ROSTREVOR HAMILTON.