(no subject)
I refer you to this article on the terrorist attacks in London to understand why this morning's poem is behind a cut. I was told to keep politics on low boil.
They buried the lines long ago
With the ghosts of the great London fires;
The trains carried passengers clicking along
Through the ash and the stone and the wires.
This morning they opened the lines
On the stony, black grave lined with paper--
The passengers laughed and the train-masters coughed
Like men bound for the Somme or Dneiper.
This morning, they planted the lines--
The bomb and the shell and the wire--
The ghosts all exclaimed with surprise and dismay
When, again, they saw London on fire.
Love to all those who have been hurt, or have lost loved ones.
They buried the lines long ago
With the ghosts of the great London fires;
The trains carried passengers clicking along
Through the ash and the stone and the wires.
This morning they opened the lines
On the stony, black grave lined with paper--
The passengers laughed and the train-masters coughed
Like men bound for the Somme or Dneiper.
This morning, they planted the lines--
The bomb and the shell and the wire--
The ghosts all exclaimed with surprise and dismay
When, again, they saw London on fire.
Love to all those who have been hurt, or have lost loved ones.