I stand alone through each long day Upon these pavers; cannot see The wares spread out upon this tray --For God has taken sight from me!
Many a time I've cursed the night When I was born. My peering eyes Have sought for but one ray of light To pierce the darkness. When the skies
Rain down their first sweet April showers On budding branches; when the morn Is sweet with breath of spring and flowers, I've cursed the night when I was born.
But now I thank God, and am glad For what I cannot see this day --The young men cripples, old, and sad, With faces burnt and torn away;
Or those who, growing rich and old, Have battened on the slaughter, Whose faces, gorged with blood and gold, Are creased in purple laughter!
The city's heat is like a leaden pall-- Its lowered lamps glow in the midnight air Like mammoth orange-moths that flit and flare Through the dark tapestry of night. The tall Black houses crush the creeping beggars down, Who walk beneath and think of breezes cool, Of silver bodies bathing in a pool; Or trees that whisper in some far, small town Whose quiet nursed them, when they thought that gold Was merely metal, not a grave of mould In which men bury all that's fine and fair. When they could chase the jewelled butterfly Through the green bracken-scented lanes or sigh For all the future held so rich and rare; When, though they knew it not, their baby cries Were lovely as the jewelled butterflies.
Robert Nichols was born on the Isle of Wight in 1893. His first volume, _Invocations_ (1915), was published while he was at the front, Nichols having joined the army while he was still an undergraduate at Trinity College, Oxford. After serving one year as second lieutenant in the Royal Field Artillery, he was incapacitated by shell shock, visiting America in 1918-19 as a lecturer. His _Ardours and Endurances_ (1917) is the most representative work of this poet, although his new volume, _The Flower of Flame_ (1920), shows a steady advance in power.
Nearer and ever nearer ... My body, tired but tense, Hovers 'twixt vague pleasure And tremulous confidence.
Arms to have and to use them And a soul to be made Worthy, if not worthy; If afraid, unafraid.
To endure for a little, To endure and have done: Men I love about me, Over me the sun!