Verse.

In the verse were some real excellencies. Most of it was forceful, clean and even graceful, but lacked warmth of phrase, warmth of colouring and warmth of emotion. Its beauties were those of the whitened manuka skeletons, rather than of the full-grown shrub.

Anton Vogt, as often, is lucky in striking gold from a baser metal. Poetry comes unexpected from round some of his angular corners. A. R. D. Fairburn and Isobel Andrews strike the lyre with dignity and skill.