31 AUGUST 1934, Page 20

Summer's Day

THE summer's-day-dim wood, this hazy loom,.

Is weaving a wild tranquillity ; here's loftier room For meditation, in the high green factory's heart ; The drone of 'planes invisible grows part Of the vibrating light, is conjured back into the world's azure womb.

Oh weaving wildwood ! Slanting, silvering sun I Along the by-pass road, to prove me mad, Sleek coach and opulent saloon-car come and go To and from town like shuttles, and yet nothing's spun ; The Age grinds on, new Juggernaut surfeit-sad. Dusty in a dry hedge, dog-roses blow.

LILIAN BOWES LYON.