23 MAY 1931, Page 18

Hospital Night

THE ward is never dark ; here patient skies Lend not their night to sweep

Smoother than feathers over shuttered eyes In silver fronds of sleep.

There is no silence in these corridors, No ageless quiet like rain Descends in ice-clear beauty here, and pours Through the unshutteied brain.

But these are shells, the bodies that rest here, Still lips that shape no cry, Pierced flesh, and wounded feet that cannot stir, Torn hands that useless lie : For like a flock of birdd their thoughts have flown Beyond the world ; and free, Travel the silent dark by roads unknown, Embrace eternity.