29 OCTOBER 1932, Page 12

Poetry

Invocation

YE hills collected mutely to observe The less than snail's progression of a star ; Who watch each mothlike comet's reckless swerve

Nigh the great magnet bending from afar ; Spectators grand awaiting the event When time shall end and riddles be no more, Admit one soul whose joy in life is spent To your high synod, envied oft before.

Some new-born star I also may descry, From the all-pervading immaterial spun, Or with a fixed and speculative eye Construe some point into a triple sun.

And so by converse with the skies above, Forgetting clay, I may remember love.

RomiLLY JOHN.