White moon rising and red sun setting White as a searchlight, red as a flame, Through the dawn wind her hard way making, Rhythmless, riddled, the bomber came. Men who had thought their last flight over, All hoping gone, came limping back, Marvelling, looked on bomb-scarred Dover, Buttercup fields and white Down track. Cottage and ploughland, green lanes weaving, Working-folk stopping to stare overhead— Lovely, most lovely, past all believing To eyes of men new-raised from the dead. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GETTYSBURG ADDRESS by ABRAHAM LINCOLN THE THREE KINGS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW FATHER LAND AND MOTHER TONGUE by SAMUEL LOVER THE SPIRIT OF SHAKESPEARE: 1 by GEORGE MEREDITH STRANGE MEETINGS: 10 by HAROLD MONRO SONG, FR. MEASURE FOR MEASURE by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE |