THE wounded took the stone-eyed girls, danced on a maudlin floor to music that broken nerves had chosen. And the time was after war. They danced for twenty years. They danced to the hammering, same refrain, louder and louder as though they sought to drown the sound of pain — until it became the lullaby of a world that had buried sorrow beneath the muddied pool of pleasure; so would have killed the morrow. The feckless years! For testament They left their sons a scourge. A war has been their epitaph. A crooner sang their dirge. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...O DREAMS, O DESTINATIONS by CECIL DAY LEWIS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: BARNEY HAINSFEATHER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: PAULINE BARRETT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 10 by EZRA POUND |