On the day of the explosion <br />Shadows pointed towards the pithead: <br />In thesun the slagheap slept. <br /> <br />Down the lane came men in pitboots <br />Coughing oath-edged talk and pipe-smoke <br />Shouldering off the freshened silence. <br /> <br />One chased after rabbits; lost them; <br />Came back with a nest of lark's eggs; <br />Showed them; lodged them in the grasses. <br /> <br />So they passed in beards and moleskins <br />Fathers brothers nicknames laughter <br />Through the tall gates standing open. <br /> <br />At noon there came a tremor; cows <br />Stopped chewing for a second; sun <br />Scarfed as in a heat-haze dimmed. <br /> <br />The dead go on before us they <br />Are sitting in God's house in comfort <br />We shall see them face to face-- <br /> <br />plian as lettering in the chapels <br />It was said and for a second <br />Wives saw men of the explosion <br /> <br />Larger than in life they managed-- <br />Gold as on a coin or walking <br />Somehow from the sun towards them <br /> <br />One showing the eggs unbroken.<br /><br />Philip Larkin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-explosion/
