THE SPADESMEN
THERE is no lack of light and singing limbs, Of throats and ribs and all the naked gear That holds the quick breath in ; there is no fear That these will fail them and dissolve like dreams
Now that each grave is scooped, each cross is varnished ; The robes of purple from the factory Hang from the branches of Gethsemane, The coffins gleam and all the brass is burnished.
They have supplied the Judas and the flails ; The ten-a-minute barbed-wire crown-of-thorns Are in construction and a million pawns Are ear-marked for the fever and the nails:
They have prepared the swabs of vinegar, Long tears for cheekbones and a load of lime. The spadesmen have been working overtime To raise so high a mound of Golgotha.
MERVYN PEAKS.