20 DECEMBER 1963, Page 18


Should it be hard to fall in love in Rome? There is the sky, Madonna piercing blue Hot, with a hint of thunder, like a muffled drum, And cool courtyards appearing unexpectedly In dappled shadow, their tiny fountains Playing a treble counterpoint to the traffic's concrete roar.

Here is the opportunity; the museum meeting, The practical, persuasive Roman charm. And where's the harm?

And where indeed? But what's the point when, walking on the Pincio,

And looking down on dusty golden roofs I think of you (allowing for the difference in time).

I see you, feel you, taste your mouth, And Rome recedes, becomes a myth, While you sit, smiling, inescapable, inside my head.