Thomas Hart Benton 1951
THE MAG
supplied the illustration
MEMORIES
Did I live here long ago? I'm certain I must have done.
For surely I remember that gentle Autumnal sun.
Surely I smelt that new-mown hay, heard the clip-clop of that horse.
Did I live here long ago! I must have done; of course!
For how could I know who lives in that house, and is waiting there to greet me?
And how could I know who has left the church and is on his way to meet me?
And how could I know what lies beyond that gentle line of trees,
And what glad bird-song is floating down on that scented English breeze?
For certain I lived here long ago; for that's how my heart remembers
Two score youthful summers and their following Septembers.
So long ago, so long ago, I left there, for good or ill.
But my heart, which is rather stupid, thinks that it lives there still.
*
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EMPTINESS
'The End of the World'..... a scary phrase,
In so many, varying, ways.
Do you imagine balls of fire?
Do you expect a Heavenly Choir?
Do think mankind will do the deed?
Do you think we're a helpless breed
Blown around by enormous forces
Constantly blowing us off our courses?
When I think of The End I find
Just one word comes to the fore....
Emptiness.
And nothing more.
Not a harsh and fiery view.
Just a quiet desolation,
Just a state on non-creation.
I see a dusty planet turning......
No floods, no fires, no burning.
Just a garbage dump of 'things',
Crumbling buildings, rusty springs,
Machinery that makes no sense
When viewed in that silent future tense.
Empty streets, where windows stare
On emptiness, for there's nothing there.
Everything quiet and decaying.
Everything colourless and greying.
Our brains, which once were so aware,
Which made some sense of all that's there
Will have long-gone. All our success
Reduced to one word
Emptiness.
*
