Charing Cross — 1916

By Bernard Gilbert

Round Charing Cross in carrion row

The crowd press in; a sight to see;

Their mouths agape, their eyes aglow,

With morbid curiosity.

Those twisted limbs, those bandaged faces!

Humanity all broken down!

The ghostly grim procession races:

Hell's handicraft in London Town.

The bestial throng with pampered eyes —

Faces of goat or sheep or bull —

All greedy with a glad surprise

Of ghoulish horror drinking full.

Heroic citizens, well nourished,

Who feast your eyes:— What sight to see?

By you the Coliseum flourished;

You thronged, as now, round Calvary.