THE CROCUSES in the Square <br /> Lend a winsome touch to the May; <br /> The clouds are vanished away, <br />The weather is bland and fair; <br />Now peace seems everywhere. <br /> Hark to the raucous, sullen cries: <br /> “Extra! extra!”—tersely flies <br /> The news, and a great hope mounts, or dies. <br /> <br />About the bulletin-boards <br /> Dark knots of people surge; <br /> Strained faces show, then merge <br />In the inconspicuous hordes <br />That yet are the Nation’s lords. <br /> “Extra! extra! Big fight at sea!” <br /> Was the luck with us? Is it victory? <br /> Dear God, they died for you and me! <br /> <br />Meanwhile the crocuses down the street <br />With heaven’s own patience are calm and sweet.<br /><br />Richard Francis Burton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/extras/
