English poem
The Tidings (Easter 1916)
by Lola Ridge (1873–1941)
Censored lies that mimic truth... Censored truth as pale as fear... My heart is like a rousing bell— And but the dead to hear... My heart is like a mother bird, Circling ever higher, And the nest-tree rimmed about By a forest fire... My heart is like a lover foiled By a broken stair— They are fighting to-night in Sackville Street, And I am not there!