14 AUGUST 1953, Page 15

Twentieth Century Love-Song

In these latter days •

Few poets have the habit Of singling out for praise One woman. • But I am old enough, And of a generation To vaunt, though crabbed and gruff, One woman.

Her attributes are such As most men take for granted, Until death comes to clutch One woman.

She is of quiet glance ; But 0, her spill of laughter ! All joy is summed by chance In one woman.

Yet when she hears a tale Of suffering or evil, She'll tremble and grow pale, This woman.

Beyond all laughter's end, And past the reach of sorrow Lover and working friend, This woman.

• But words are too cross-grain For me to tell the secret Of what makes her remain The one woman. RICHARD CHURCH.