It was my bridal night I remember,
An old man of seventy-three
I lay with my young bride in my arms,
A girl with t.b.
It was wartime, and overhead
The Germans were making a particularly heavy raid on
Hampstead.
What rendered the confusion worse, perversely
Our bombers had chosen that moment to set out for Germany.
Harry, do they ever collide?
I do not think it has ever happened,
Oh my bride, my bride.
(Stevie Smith)
More Poetry from Stevie Smith:
- Do Not! (Stevie Smith Poems)
- In My Dreams (Stevie Smith Poems)
- Conviction (III) (Stevie Smith Poems)
- I Do Not Speak (Stevie Smith Poems)
- Bag-Snatching In Dublin (Stevie Smith Poems)
- The Reason (Stevie Smith Poems)