1920s >> 1920 >> no-187-march-1920

Poem: ‘After Seeing a Performance of ‘The Trojan Women”

    What though you beat the earth and cry aloud

    To all the dead that you have loved and lost;

    Shall one arise and cast aside his shroud

    To help and save you, hell-bound, tempest tossed

    On the sad world’s waters? Rise from off your knees

    And face life fearlessly whate’er portend.

    The wheels of Fate, despite your futile pleas,

    Roll on, unheeding, to their destined end.

    And still men cry and clamour to the dead,

    Or pray for aid to gods and other men;

    And still Fate crushes them and passes by.

    The night comes swiftly; even now the red,

    The blood-red sunset, like an open wen,

    Creeps in its course across the darkening sky.


F. J. Webb

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