(Freely from Wilfred Owen)
What passing-bells for bonds on the road to ruination?
Only the monstrous shame of those who cower
Only the ratcheting higher of inflation
Patters out their palling purchasing power.
No risk-free status now for them; no carry nor capital gain;
Nor praise from bankers save media’s profane,
Shrill and demented choirs in lamentable wires
Bleating of bereavement in sad shires.
What candles held by ratings agencies unbowed?
Not in the hands of the impoverished but in their eyes
Shall shine the sad tears of wasted efforts and heavy tithes.
The poverty of the righteous shall be their shroud;
Their flowers the betrayal of those who will not cope,
And each broken bond a drawing-down of hope.
Comments