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Poetry

1925
by Sherard Vines

Today we must recall abysmal follies
That have bequeathed out friends to flies and sour clay,
That bent the air with groaning flights of steel
Or sweetened it with a shell's livid breath,
Turned wholesome plains and gentle lakes to filth,
Tore up our continent in unscavenged belts
Through cross-edged meadows and afforested heights
Where the guns crouched in pits and shouted
Lunatic judgement in dull obedience.

We must remember the weary stand-to
Of millions, pale in corpse-infected mist,
The mad, and those turned monsters, or castrated
In one red, hideous moment; and how, unseen
Dark Mania sat in offices and designed
New schemes for shambles, learning year by year,
Painfully, secretly, to degrade the world

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Tuesday 14 February 2006