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Joan A. Bidwell

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For Redevelopment

This is the house of the old black rafters,
Shadows mocking and whispering stair;
     Nobody nobody nobody there,
Cheated of light and robbed of laughter,
Nobody there but a blind man knocking.

This is the house of the secret grating,
Swords in the night and a plot laid bare;
     Nobody nobody nobody there,
Nobody there but a heart still waiting
And deep, wild weeping at day’s first light.

This is the house of October sun
Warm on the stables carriage and pair
     Nobody nobody nobody there:
Children’s petticoats tip-toe run
Out in the daylight under the gables.

This is the company’s demolition
Carelessly shocking the gossipy air.
     Flats or offices, fine position
Nobody there but a blind man knocking - - -
A weeping woman with streaming hair - - -
     Bargain freehold, as we were saying
And three little girls in the garden playing,
Pinafore-ribboned and unaware,
     And nobody nobody nobody there.

 

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