Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE DEATH OF THE CITY, by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE DEATH OF THE CITY, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Year on year, and day on day
Last Line: None cursed her, none for her did pray.
Subject(s): London


YEAR on year, and day on day,
Like the light advancing towards June,
Grew the city greater under the moon.
And men said: "She will never pass away."
Soldier, priest, and statesman found within her
Treasures to guard, and souls to save, and laws to keep:
Night and day she grew more splendid, night and day she
grew more vast,
Cities were added to her in her sleep.
Explosive outbursts of life
She felt, and tonic strife: --
Steadily consuming gold
Through shops, banks, houses, churches, all the old
Multitudinous, diverse, unchanging mouths of life.
Then towards her, on great roads outward flung,
There came a numberless throng;
On foot or hobbling along,
In carts, in carriages, trains and boats, men came:
For her great eyes aflame
Had drawn each from his lair;
From his dull den in the changeless countryside where
There was only labour and rest,
To her palaces, taverns, chapels, slums, and gaols, and
great shops fair,
Where sat together ruling, smiling Hope and Despair,
Crowned with terrific crest;
And a Dream over all, a vast Dream vaguely blest.
So generations passed, but still men's toil
Never slackened, never ceased. It went on, blind.
There was no time to pause, nor had they a mind
To see the record of their own turmoil.
Small men arose and dominated the whole:
Great men fell crushed beneath the appalling weight.
The rest still strove, for their crude force was great,
Their hopes yet high, although they lacked a goal,
And then, they said: "She will never pass away."
But while the ship of fate tugged at the chain of years,
Men's bodies grew the weaker, their souls grew faint with fears:
They came to hate the errors and follies they had done,
And then they fell to hating the savage, splendid sun:
And then they thought earth evil: and then, in sullen mood,
They worked slowly, mechanically, and merely for their food,
Toiling resignedly ever: none knew the reason why,
But that all men were slaves alike, to suffer, bear, and die.
Year on year, and day on day,
Like the light returning in December,
Died the city's force down to an ember.
And still fools cried: "She will never pass away."
Not to the sound of glorious battle,
Not to the rhythm of marching feet,
But to hushed compliments of deceit,
Slowly sounded the long death-rattle.
Exhausted, and not daring
Sudden, fierce death to face,
She passed, without disgrace,
Or honour, or any caring.
Slowly she grew more rotten-ripe;
Slowly her heart did shrivel so,
Slowly her streets grew tenantless,
Slowly her life-blood ceased to flow.
At the last, like a toothless harlot,
Painted, in tawdry lace,
She sat at the cross-roads of the world,
And the world spat in her face.
Then, after many centuries, she fell to ruin there,
To a ruin that had forgotten its triumph, its despair:
While new and violent nations rose red and launched great ships,
And went to their last battle with mad song on their lips,
While surging cities rose and battered at the skies,
And monstrous cities fell and the earth reeled with their cries.
She sat there ghastly, smiling, and unmoved at all their strife,
Her choice was made at last -- and her choice was death-in-life.
Year on year, and day on day,
Like the face of one lost long ago,
She faded into the darkness so:
None cursed her, none for her did pray.





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