24 APRIL 1953, Page 13

After the Banquet

We thought we did this for ourselves, Working our will to know each other, Striving to come, like Plato's halves, Irreducibly together.

All the world over it is known That when a man and woman cleave, The roots of Earth are heard to groan ; Yet still we fail of what we'd have.

Early or late, in youth or age, All suffer this eternal cheat ; Divine intention, bestial rage ; And in fruition our defeat.

Let it be so ; yet I'm content, As life draws to its wintry close, To count no cost of passion spent, And swear we've earned our last repose.

RICHARD CHURCH.