30 JULY 1932, Page 10

The Kiss

WE do not love : this kiss of ours

Is but a careless, chance embrace— As though two individual flowers, Near neighbours in an upland place, Should by some infant tempest find Their blossoms caught and intertwined ; Which being overpast, they spring Unscathed apart, nor longer cling.

So, in a little gusty Now, Without a Future or a Past, Without a memory or a vow, We yield to joy, nor bid it last.

This is not loving—love must be Athirst for continuity : But many a graver, truer kiss Were less delightful, dear, than this.

JAN STntrrmin,