Thoughts on Politest Britain after Recent Attacks
A giant flies above the ancient walls
And towers. Stained glass windows’ notes are drowned
By roaring engines louder than the calls
Of dragons being stabbed. A cricket ground
Below all this is calmer than the stone
And leading in between the blood-like red
And wode-bright blue. The plane is like the groan
The serpent makes. We do not feel the dread
Of scaly monster or Jehovah’s threat.
The batsman tries to hit the spinning ball
As hard as engines thrusting from the jet
And this is modern England all in all.
..Or is it? That is much too pat. It leaves
….Out terror and the batsman’s futile greaves.