THE BOMBED HAPPINESS Children who extend their smile of crystal, And their leaping gold embrace, And wear their happiness as a frank jewel, Are forced in the mould of the groaning bull And engraved with lines on the face. Their harlequin-striped flesh, Their blood twisted in rivers of song, Their flashing, trustful emptiness, Are trampled by an outer heart that pressed From the sky right through the coral breast And kissed the heart and burst. This timed, exploding heart that breaks The loved and little hearts, is also one Splintered through the lungs and wombs And fragments of squares in the sun, And crushing the floating, sleeping babe Into a deeper sleep. Its victoried drumming enters Above the limbs of bombed laughter The body of an expanding State And throbs there and makes it great, But nothing nothing can recall Gaiety buried under these dead years, Sweet jester and young playing fool Whose toy was human happiness.