No bangs at night? No terrors in the air?
No neighbours dead—or buried—in the dawn?
No quaking vigils underneath the stair?
(Forgive us, Northern Counties, if you yawn.)
It is five years since we were sure of sleep,
Or dared to swear we'd see another day,
Five years of fears and houses in a heap.
This is a thing no other place can say.
April 8,1945