7 JANUARY 1949, Page 19

EPIPHANY

So dark I So deeply dark I I almost see the camels on the hill And feel their bird-like, swaying tread Thread through the willows by the water edge, Pass by the garden, shadow-like and slow, Bearing bowed monarchs on an age-old quest, Whose garments breathe of frankincense and myrrh.

No sound or song of bell • But cusped in the now greying sky, Where the night rains linger, misty still, Thou, waiting star.

o VIOLET CHURCHMAN.