Welsh Journals

Grove and Ward 0 3 (b)." Some have hinted that in this preoccupa- tion there is the poet's intuition of the nearness of the enemy. But he was brought up in a valley where violent death is a commonplace, and where the slow death of decay had been allowed to seep through a whole community. Moreover, death is a soldier's familiar. It is too early to assess his value as a writer; all his work is not yet published. We do not know how high the clear, sad lyricism of the poems will place him; the humour and the humanity of his stories. That is a task for a later time. But we can say now, with certainty, that by his death not only Welshmen but all men are losers. An Elegy for Alun Lewis By JOHN ORMOND THOMAS WHO sees the white saps rise in the ash-tree's thigh has breathed earth's day and in his vision has created Who holds in mind, perpetually, the struggle between thorn and flower has seen the living enmity within the stone; and truce can never be who sees, in men on coaltips, and in dancing rivers the feud of time; and for the dead of this unending duel, the dirge of the yellow stars, fertile, evanescent, that flare in contradiction as crocus buds in February. Now, untouchable, remote as their embroidery on blue' he lies, surpassing truth that he created. But we will fail to touch validity. SELECTIONS FROM I.