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Now reading
What the Civilian Saw
Kensington High Street
It is all shiny and black, like bombazine or taffeta,
Or the satin of my grandmother's gown, that stood alone
It was so thick ;
A screen between us and knowledge,
That sometimes, when we are very good, gets on to the
placards.
Past the screen of the dark the rain glissades,
Flowing down the straight damp palisades of the dark.
Faces against the screen,
Lamps of living flesh hung out in the storm
That has draped the world in black. . ..
Here by the station an iridescent sheen,
Dazzling, not gay. And news,
Special; oh, "Special"!
What have they let through to us from over there-
For once?
Faces, news, on the screen,
And the hungry crowds weltering in the dark!
Here is the English translation
Of what goes on over there,
There where hangings are not black but red,
And the king of England is lying on the ground. . . ...
Violet Hunt Hueffer