I. THE MOTOR:1905 FROM hedgerows where aromas fain would be New volleyed odours execrably rise; The flocks, with hell-smoke in their patient eyes, Into the ditch from bawling ruin flee: Spindrift of one abominated sea Along all roads in wrecking fury flies Till on young strangled leaf, on bloom that dies, In this far plot it writes a rune for me. Vast intimate tyranny! Nature dispossessed Helplessly hates thee, whose symbolic flare Lights up (with what reiterance unblest!) Entrails of horror in a world thought fair. False God of pastime thou, vampire of rest, Augur of what pollution, what despair? II. THE WAR: 1915 Speed without ruth, seedsman of vile success, Accustomed sight to ne'er-accustomed view! Am I not vindicate who strongly knew Some portent there of pregnant ugliness? The dooms are in; my soul hath won her guess. That which formed thee and franchised, had the cue To push all rudeness forward, and was due To spawn ere long the sovereign menace. Yes, Horror has come, has come! Horror set high, And drunk with boundless access, whirls amain: Lost on the wind is Belgia's holy cry, And Poland's hope shrinks underground again, And France is singing to her wounds, where lie The golden English heads like harvest grain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOME, SWEET HOME, FR. CLARI, THE MAID OF MILAN by JOHN HOWARD PAYNE SONNET PREFIXED TO 'NENNIO, OR A TREATISE OF NOBILITY' by EDMUND SPENSER PASSAGE TO INDIA by WALT WHITMAN A MOTHER'S HEART by CHRISTOPHER BANNISTER THE BRIMMING CUP by REITA M. CLAPSADDLE THE AMERICAN BLACK (A STUDY IN RACE CONSCIOUSNESS) by GEORGE HERBERT CLARKE |