5 JULY 1957, Page 33

Facing South

Flowers in a pot, simply. But they Diffuse and pour their yellow day Into the room, a liquid light.

And yet they hunger for the bright Square of the window; so they shift Into their wheeling photic drift.

Slower than eye can see they surge Apart, but through one single urge Too faint and full and deep for sense, Enharmony of innocence, That veers them lifeward round from dark And links them as they close their arc In calm arrival. Now they are Constellated to the star Of stars, and imperceptibly Drink up its blazing, raining sea In double life : down in their soil Quiet dark roots blend their slow cool toil.

JOHN HOLLOWAY