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Boom！ And there is only the room； the table； the candle； and the sliding
rain。 Again； Boom！ Boom！ Boom！ He stuffs his fingers into his ears。
He sees corpses； and cries out in fright。 Boom！ It is night； and they are
shelling the city！ Boom！ Boom！
A child wakes and is afraid； and weeps in the darkness。 What has
made the bed shake？ 〃Mother； where are you？ I am awake。〃 〃Hush；
my Darling； I am here。〃 〃But； Mother； something so queer happened； the
room shook。〃 Boom！ 〃Oh！ What is it？ What is the matter？〃 Boom！
〃Where is Father？ I am so afraid。〃 Boom！ The child sobs and shrieks。
The house trembles and creaks。 Boom！
Retorts； globes； tubes； and phials lie shattered。 All his trials oozing
across the floor。 The life that was his choosing； lonely； urgent； goaded by
a hope； all gone。 A weary man in a ruined laboratory； that is his story。
Boom！ Gloom and ignorance； and the jig of drunken brutes。 Diseases
like snakes crawling over the earth； leaving trails of slime。 Wails from
people burying their dead。 Through the window； he can see the rocking
steeple。 A ball of fire falls on the lead of the roof； and the sky tears apart
on a spike of flame。 Up the spire； behind the lacings of stone； zigzagging
in and out of the carved tracings； squirms the fire。 It spouts like yellow
wheat from the gargoyles； coils round the head of Saint John； and aureoles
him in light。 It leaps into the night and hisses against the rain。 The
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Men； Women and Ghosts
Cathedral is a burning stain on the white； wet night。
Boom！ The Cathedral is a torch； and the houses next to it begin to
scorch。 Boom！ The bohemian glass on the ‘etagere' is no longer there。
Boom！ A stalk of flame sways against the red damask curtains。 The old
lady cannot walk。 She watches the creeping stalk and counts。 Boom！
Boom！ Boom！
The poet rushes into the street； and the rain wraps him in a sheet of
silver。 But it is threaded with gold and powdered with scarlet beads。 The
city burns。 Quivering； spearing； thrusting； lapping； streaming； run the
flames。 Over roofs； and walls； and shops； and stalls。 Smearing its gold
on the sky； the fire dances； lances itself through the doors； and lisps and
chuckles along the floors。
The child wakes again and screams at the yellow petalled flower
flickering at the window。 The little red lips of flame creep along the
ceiling beams。
The old man sits among his broken experiments and looks at the
burning Cathedral。 Now the streets are swarming with people。 They seek
shelter and crowd into the cellars。 They shout and call； and over all；
slowly and without force； the rain drops into the city。 Boom！ And the
steeple crashes down among the people。 Boom！ Boom； again！ The
water rushes along the gutters。 The fire roars and mutters。 Boom！
Lead Soldiers
The nursery fire burns brightly； crackling in cheerful little explosions
and trails of sparks up the back of the chimney。 Miniature rockets
peppering the black bricks with golden stars； as though a gala flamed a
night of victorious wars。
The nodding mandarin on the bookcase moves his head forward and
back； slowly； and looks into the air with his blue…green eyes。 He stares
into the air and nods forward and back。 The red rose in his hand is a
crimson splash on his yellow coat。 Forward and back； and his blue…green
eyes stare into the air； and he nods nods。
Tommy's soldiers march to battle； Trumpets flare and snare…
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Men； Women and Ghosts
drums rattle。 Bayonets flash； and sabres glance How the
horses snort and prance！ Cannon drawn up in a line Glitter in
the dizzy shine Of the morning sunlight。 Flags Ripple colours
in great jags。 Red blows out； then blue； then green； Then all
three a weaving sheen Of prismed patriotism。 March
Tommy's soldiers； stiff and starch； Boldly stepping to the rattle
Of the drums； they go to battle。
Tommy lies on his stomach on the floor and directs his columns。 He
puts his infantry in front； and before them ambles a mounted band。 Their
instruments make a strand of gold before the scarlet…tunicked soldiers； and
they take very long steps on their little green platforms； and from the ranks
bursts the song of Tommy's soldiers marching to battle。 The song jolts a
little as the green platforms stick on the thick carpet。 Tommy wheels his
guns round the edge of a box of blocks； and places a squad of cavalry on
the commanding eminence of a footstool。
The fire snaps pleasantly； and the old Chinaman nods nods。 The
fire makes the red rose in his hand glow and twist。 Hist！ That is a bold
song Tommy's soldiers sing as they march along to battle。
Crack！ Rattle！ The sparks fly up the chimney。
Tommy's army's off to war Not a soldier knows what for。
But he knows about his rifle； How to shoot it； and a trifle Of
the proper thing to do When it's he who is shot through。 Like a
cleverly trained flea； He can follow instantly Orders； and some
quick commands Really make severe demands On a mind that's
none too rapid； Leaden brains tend to the vapid。 But how
beautifully dressed Is this army！ How impressed Tommy is
when at his heel All his baggage wagons wheel About the
patterned carpet； and Moving up his heavy guns He sees them
glow with diamond suns Flashing all along each barrel。 And
the gold and blue apparel Of his gunners is a joy。 Tommy is a
lucky boy。 Boom！ Boom！ Ta…ra！
The old mandarin nods under his purple umbrella。 The rose in his
hand shoots its petals up i