ST. PAUL'S
(LONDON MAY 11th 1941)


I walked to Ludgate Hill down from the Strand,
By broken beauty of a Cityís shattered breast;
Where streets, tradition-steeped, were piled
With debris; where men fought fire to wrest,
From fiercest hate, the fragments of a grand
And glorious heritage; untiring men, who smiled.

I saw St. Clements Dane, and thought of Spring,
Of fashionable weddings and decades now done;
But smouldering walls and empty aisles were hushed
With silence of rebuke for splendour gone;
From ruined pews lost echoes seemed to ring
With peals of praise, but ravished bells lay crushed.

Then, poised out of chaos and this Dantesque dream,
Shrouded by smoke, the high familiar dome,
Splendidly proud above the crumbling walls
And devastation, the symbol of our Home,
And Britainís faith and effort, shone supreme,
An edifice of glory, old St. Pauls.

 

 

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St.Paulís Survives Photo by Herbert Mason:

"I focused at intervals as the great dome loomed up through the smoke. Glares of many fires and sweeping clouds of smoke kept hiding the shape. Then a wind sprang up. Suddenly, the shining cross, dome and towers stood out like a symbol in the inferno. The scene was unbelievable. In that moment or two I released my shutter."
 

Other Pieces by my Father, Namur King:

Remembrance Day

Aberfan

Hiraeth

Coal Patterns

Brick Horizons

To Be As One With God

Today has never been before

Ode To A Snowdrop During Wartime

Ode to the Full Moon during an ďAlertĒ, 1942

Ode to Goldie, the Golden Eagle on its 10th Day of Freedom

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