18 DECEMBER 1942, Page 9

DARK HARMONY

FOR summer fled, autumn's rich robe grown old,

Shall I lament, cry woe is me that night Of winter for so long shall cheat my sight, Rob meadows of their splendour till the gold Of sunlight falls no more on green outrolled, Green grass, green trees, green hedgerows and the bright Faces of flowers uplifting to the light A loveliness that never can be told?

For earth, at rest, shapes a right goodly show, Spreading, between green aprons worn and thin, Carpets of brown, red umber, and the glow Of rain-soaked tan, to set sun-shadows in And richer kindred far with these to win Than colours of her prime can ever reach.

DOROTHY M. RICHARDSON.