P. D. Cummins
For Us, The Lost
For us, the lost, no shelter will avail,
There is no safety left where we may cower;
The present shell caves in, the winds assail
The wretched structure of its leaning tower.
We must accept our sequent wounds. What use
To flinch before the sensed, the certain edge,
To spread in sicklied folds the flag of truce,
Beg from the traitor past one sign, one pledge?
See, even now the viaduct of night
Weakens beneath the adversary’s heel,
And in the future’s armoury, the light
Glints on innumerable hilts of steel.
For us, the lost, who sowed the dragon’s teeth,
To-morrow is the dagger in the sheath.
Page(s) 132-133
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