6 JANUARY 1950, Page 12

The Volcano

BEFORE us, the stone basin and its fountain: The squatting dragon's jaw spouts glittering streams Into that round pool where the one carp dreams Hot noon away. And over there, the mountain, Old Sakurajima, a goblins' Ark Afloat upon blue glass. That silent height For me should be imagination's mark Were my home here: each day in spirit-sight Those clefts and crests should build my thought aloft For ever from the market-round, afar Towards other being. Through this garden, soft Singer of still delight from things that are, The southern breeze now cadences: " I bring Rich fruit deep-bloomed, our mountain's autumn offering."

EDMUND BLUNDEN.