World War Two Poems

A LOST BROTHER

AT THE EMPRESS BALLROOM, WIGAN 1942

 

Look at the merry dancing throng

In eyes a light, on lips a song

And proud glad hearts - no thought of wrong

E’er enters their sweet gaiety.

 

What! Who’s that man with eyes so sad

Not man - a boy - he should be glad

And dancing with these pretty girls

He eyes so listlessly.

 

He sees a laughing phantom form

Sweeter and gayer than them all

Flit thro’ the dancers, this way, that

Now hastening to them to chat.

 

With slaps and jokes, the endless yarns

He hears his voice narrating

But he is dead, oh rouse yourself

No use to stand there waiting.

 

He sees no throng. He hears no band

His brother’s in a far-off land

His dearest pal, who once with he

Joined in this crowd so merrily.

 

Oh wicked war that severs friends

Whose world goes dark, their rainbow ends

But they don’t find a pot of gold

Just bitterness and grief untold.

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