Darkness—expectant, discreet— Only a lamp here and there, Gloom in the clattering street, Stygian black in the square; Dazzling fascias and fronts, Scintillant sky-scrapers banished, Snuffed and shut down are the spangles of Town. London has vanished. Only a few months ago London woke up every night; Dances or “Chemin” or Show, Festival vistas or light. Everywhere glitter and glare, Junket and revelry keeping. Yes, but despite the laughter and light, London was sleeping. Searchlights are probing the skies, Eastward their streamers are trailed; Masked are the city’s bright eyes— Even the tramcars are veiled. Cockneys turn in at eleven, “Stop Press” thirst finally slaked. Turn the lights out. Now, without doubt, London’s awake!
Jessie Pope - 1868-1941
The Two Goliaths
Goliath was a giant, the bully of his side, His coat of mail was brazen, his face was fierce with pride; And when a shepherd stripling to challenge him was fain, Eleven-foot Goliath ignored him in disdain. But David didn’t trouble, his heart was cool and glad, Though a sling and rounded pebbles were the only arms he had. That slender slip of Jesse, he knew his cause was just, So he stood up to the bully, and rolled him in the dust. Those days are gone for ever, but the bully strain survives, Though at the time of writing one can hardly say it thrives; The chant of Chauvinism has become an idly yarn, Like the “negligible British” since the Battle of the Marne. Our German-made Goliath taunted Tommy on his size, But the drubbing Tommy gave him has caused him much surprise; And a hasty memorandum in the Teuton mind is stored— “The little British Army must never be ignored.”