Last night was a skull night: you mayn't see what I mean, but that describes it exactly. The clouds were draped across the sky like an X-ray photograph, of a crab - horrible it was - and little stars shone through like hits of metal in the flesh. That's how it was last night - enough to scare any men.

I went out walking with my honey - we went to the gardens and they were quite light with the moon, but there weren't many people round. We sat on a bench and - you know the things one does.

You're a funny boy, she said. I jumped.

What the hell! Why am I a funny boy, I asked.

You do such funny things, she said.

Oh do I, I said. Out walking with you, for instance?

No, she said. You don't go to the war.

Why should I when I've got you to stay at home with, I said,

They might need you, over there, she said.

Of course, yes, Who's the beau now, I said. Pulling the dishcloth over my eyes!

I really mean it, she said.

Well, I'm not going to the war, see, I said.

Not going? not even if conscription comes in?

No, I'm a pacifist, I said.

She jumped about three feet off the bench and I remembered I hadn't used that word in her company before.

You swine, she said.

Now I have put my foot in it, I thought. What am I going to do?

Got a white feather, I said.

Jim, she said, and sat down close, Jim, she said, you'll go, won't you?

Why d'you want me to go, I asked.

Everyone goes, and I love you, she said.

Oh you love me, and you want me to go, do you?

Yes, she said.

Well I'm going, I said, and went.

M.

Graduate.

Being a universal university blue,
He joined Army, Navy, and Air Force too.
And needless to say earned unusual renown
In the noble art of shooting men down.

J.D.F.

Harvest in T'North.

If it comes t' economy,
No one's got the wood on my mate:
'e's making the most
Of 'is Grandmother's ghost
By havin't for Dinner at 8.

A.V.

On Little A's Impressions of the Orongorongos.

Little a?
From Day's Bay
Did you send your muse forth flying?
Did she find the G. B. trying?

Did you say,
Little a,
That you saw the cloud-nymphs dancing?
Saw aerial spirits prancing?

It may be
That you see
In a purer light and clearer,
See a vision brighter, fairer...

But as yet
I regret
I've seen no celestial ballet
Danced by sprites o'er Tawhai chalet.

Such sights are
Better far
Seen from libraries quiescent,
Than from rivers chill, and Five-Mile deliquescent.

H.W.

Short Discourse on Poetry.

In the pages of Salient you find verse of all descriptions, and you react accordingly. Sky-gods revolt you; putrescent sex interests you; and streamline fascinates you.

But there is no poetry of this age. Prose is asserting itself in response to the call of the masses (writers must obey their audience), but poetry lags behind. The attempts of Auden and Spender appear to be bourgeois efforts of escape!

Study these things: keep them in mind and try to find what is a true expression of this age, and who really appeals to you Read Saroyan, James Hanley, and the "Grapes of Wrath". Observe the emotion rodent in you; and be true to that emotion. See that others - writers in particular, are true to their emotions. Then write and tell Salient your discoveries.

Summit.

Austere and barren,
Lone ethereal peak,
Scourged by the blizzard,
Seared by the lightning blast,
Unearthly earth,
Kin to the cindered moon,
Dwelt on by stars;
Beauty and terror wed,
Crown of my dreams
And summit of my dread.

J. B. Woodward.