2 JULY 1932, Page 16

Lonely Presence

SURELY this is a state of grace : The spirit clad in the brightness of the morning air, The world flowing into the heart through clear senses.

Yet how seldom the sun can illustrate our shadows, Shut in as we are upon ourselves.

Then, in the summer of an interior day, Poplar leaves are delicate heart-beats in the wind, The tumbling wings of pigeons flash in the mind's air, And we reach the border of reality, and stand A lonely presence on her promontory.

FEILIP HENDERSON..