24 SEPTEMBER 1948, Page 11

BALE-OUT

A TUMBLING black figure Into the sky, A pointing finger of silk And I Caught by that fisted white Stopped suddenly.

In the still world I hung The very air

Held its breath, breathless And dare Not breathe, lest it spill

I who hung there at its will.

In an uncertain world

I sought,

Like a tremulous thought for sound And found nothing but shadows And silence. By boundaries unbound.

Time to think and wonder Why mortal I

Should with my brother war And mar God's gift to man, His Image to destroy.

MARK QUESTION.