Where yonder ruddy-misted star <br />Is tumbling down the placid sky <br />The people’s aims were not so high <br />As our heroic motives are; <br />To love and trust they set a bar, <br />And “Profit” was their only cry; <br />They paid but little heed how nigh <br />Came thundering the iron car. <br /> <br />It rushed upon them and it passed <br />Leaving a ghost of pain and fear <br />To haunt the ruin it had made. <br />But surely they have learnt at last? <br />What far faint murmur can we hear <br />Of frantic howling? Listen! . . . “TRADE.”<br /><br />John Le Gay Brereton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/trade-6/
