Contributions for Poets’ Corner will be welcomed.
THE FINEST HOURS
The finest hours? Yes, I was there,
Smutty-faced from the funeral pyres
Of out-worn shibboleths;
“The war to end all wars.”
“Appeasement.” “Peace in our time”
Then we stood alone, purged clean
From coward and collaborator,
The chain’s weak links broken and gone.
We, that firm heart’s core who would never give in,
Alone, conditioned to the siren’s wail;
We, who cat-napped to the nightly drone,
Counting the crumps,
Broken-nailed from rubble-grubbing;
We, superbly muddling through, took it in our stride,
Grumbled on, and did the nearest job;
Damned the blackout and the queues,
The powdered egg and petty inconveniences.
In this, the finest hour in the long, proud history of our nation,
We, who stuck it out that others might be free,
Just cursed, then laughed and made a cup of tea.
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