3 OCTOBER 1958, Page 29

On the Cruise

Like gardens of glass these islunds, Flowers coloured, ancient and stiff; But the steamer moves off, and the fog Repossesses the black of the cliff, Reveals the green grass for a moment High up in the grey And a boat pushed up and dropped down By the well in the bay.

We visit, we stare from our world, Knee-breeches, dancing; and whale, Angelica's gleam by the rock And fleeces hooked up for sale.

A nd'our finger-nails mauve in the cold, Salt cold on a turned-in lip, The horn answers horn through the fog

. And we slide away with the ship.

GEOFFREY GR1GSON