27 DECEMBER 1946, Page 12

THE BACKS

Green silver leaves, a splash of gold, And then the river, still and old, Yet always moving Slowly beneath the bridges.

Grey lichen dips into the water, While willows trail their fingers Hour by hour.

Eyes that are tired of city dust and squalor, Find solace in this ageless magic scene ' - They see each lilting tower beyond the fair green spaces, And sunlight slanting on the lemon stone.

Ears, so long deadened by that tearing clatter, Suddenly hear a chime strike on the air Notes of new music, echoing in the silence,

And Peace stands on the bank, with lilacs in her hair.

EvELYN VERSCHOYLIL