7 MAY 1954, Page 23

The Museum, Tenby

Here are the seabirds, under each a mothball. Here are the doctor's railings, hit by a bomb. The bull of time has stamped upon a puffball ; Its dust is laid between index and tomb. Peace to the Romans and the thieving Norsemen. The sea rides like a charge of cold-eyed horsemen Over the fiat, wet sand, leaving its runes. The porter at the hotel has eyes like prunes.

Cancel all early dates. The stamp's Victorian And has its virtues. Here's the philosopher-stone That turns a screaming century antiquarian In the pale sun of one lost afternoon. See history quelled, and all misleading ardour Rebuked, while like a figurehead of order Albert the Good presides upon his mound. And time is long : as long as the sea sound.

SYDNEY TREMAYNB