Anthem for Doomed Employees
What passing-bells for these who leave as cattle?
- Only the monstruous anger of the rest.
Only the stuttering hum of the hearing
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,
-No shrill, demented mummbles of coffee shop heros;
And no bugles calling for them from sad floors.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of managers, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of the exited' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
Not by Wilfred Owen
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