BENEDICTION IN POPLAR
DISMAYED by the horrors of War!—the sunlight shines
On nibbled heaps of wreckage, on sweating men Straining to clear the crumbled gaps in the lines Of pock-marked houses, and open the streets again.
Dismayed by the horrors of War!—the sunlight gleans On the fish-bright bellies of smiling fat balloons, But from the ruins dust-pale splintered beams Raise warning fingers in the afternoons.
The burned-out houses have circles under their eyes And stare out blank and tired at the silent street, Where the sneering laugh of a passing car soon dies, Where the smack of tyres on tar as bicycles pass Echoes in empty rooms, and the faltering feet Of a sun-sodden walker ring on broken glass.
Dismayed by the War, to You we turn, 0 Lord; In confidence to You we turn, and trust That He Whose mercy promised safety must Remember those who lean upon His word.
In the ruins the workmen sweat and swear, While the levered beams snort clouds of angry dust, And their eyes burn, and the tarmac melts in the glare, And their trousers glow with the girders' winter rust.
Among the ruins we turn, 0 Lord, to You, Where the monstrance shines in the sun and children sing 0 Salutaris, looking calmly through The school-room windows, where the workmen wring The sweat from their faces, and slowly turn again To repair the horrors of War which sadden men.
LAWRENCE TOYNBEE.
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