Between the Wars (Charleston 1937)

Take the train down Friday next,

In summer hat and linen dress

Hail a taxi at the station

There will be artichokes and cabbages,

Sweet honeycombs and radishes

To feed your grateful nation

Bring paper, easel, pen and ink

To set up on the lawn

Where summer mornings brim with light

And evenings fill with birdsong

Between the wars

Ginger cakes are served with tea

Your lovers orbit endlessly

And your children march like soldiers

Their nets for catching butterflies

Fill up with wind and sit up high

Like rifles at their shoulders

But this is where you fled the world

This is where you gather

Take up take up your skirts and twirl

Like angels through the asters

Between the wars

A telegram arrives from Spain

The earth falls off its axis

Grief hands down a kind of pain

You can't prepare or practice

You paint the tables, paint the walls

The mantles, mirrors, lamps and halls

Paint every single surface

No corner here will go untouched

By loss and love and by your brush

Such emptiness is worthless

There are no ghosts except the ones

Leaving us behind

We wave and shout come back come back

Frozen now in time

Between the wars