Oreck Vacuum

Showing posts with label WW2. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WW2. Show all posts

Friday, May 14, 2010

The Bomber

The horrors of wartime juxtapose the wonders of a spring-day, in this poem:


A bomber has crashed in yonder field!-
The briar buds are bursting now.
Its engine spat fire; with tortured scream,
It plunged to the ground, a demon of flame and steel -
Pink blossom falls from the almond bough.

The wallflowers are blowing, red, yellow and brown -
They drove at high speed, to save the town.
The skylark, high mounting, trills his jubilant lay;
The jasmine is shimmering in golden array -
The explosion rocked dwellings for miles around.

How young would they be? How young would they be?-
Oh, child, come here quickly to me!
The rooks noisily build on topmost bough -
They avoided the houses for our sakes, somehow -
Leaves, heart-shaped, unfold on the lilac tree.

From that blazing inferno they thought not to escape;
They remembered us, and we came to no harm.
O God, for their mothers to learn of their fate!
Young bodies they treasured, crushed all out of shape.
Crushed all out of shape, broken, twisted and charred!-
The linnets are preening in the noonday calm,
The calm of the spring's noonday.