Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE MUNITION WORKERS, by DIANA JAMES


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE MUNITION WORKERS, by                    
First Line: They sat upon a hill
Last Line: With the dread weight of an eternal sleep.
Subject(s): Arms & Armor; Labor & Laborers; Weapons; Ammunition; Work; Workers


They sat upon a hill,
They could forget
The dark oppressive roof-tops of the town.
They drank their fill;
The buttercups were wet;
The evening sunlight, webbed and mystical,
Transfused the iron bands that were clamped down
On their bright hair, the fetters of the mill
Became a circlet and a coronet.
The wheels poised and the hammers were laid still.

But now the night is deep,
The caverns burn,
The great machine is grinding in a dream.
They cannot weep,
The coronet is stern,
The fountain of their tears has ceased to gleam:
Somewhere men die; somewhere the waters churn
With flame consumed, somewhere the bullets teem
In this dark night; and wreathe their brows with iron,
With the dread weight of an eternal sleep.





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