5 MARCH 1943, Page 11

TRANSFIGURATION

AGE straddled her bowed shoulders, mad decay

In horrid retinae clutched her frail frame:

Limbs lissom fifty years. before, dragged lame, Black hair had faded to its winter's grey.

She reeked aforetimc of the must of day : On failing eye and ear Life laid no claim, And stalking Death already spoke her name.

I pondered how she passed each ending day,—

What merit or incentive warmed the spark That stubborn burned ; and watching, understood: Her dried voice swelled, " My daughter's girl is dark Like me." And all that had been good

And young stood there restored. I learnt by living mark

The meaning of the pride of parenthood.

JOYCE BARTON.