St George’s Day and England lies serene
And thinks of Shakespeare, playwright of plague years
And takes her comfort from the quiet green
And tries to calm her stress and squash ideas
Of ancient freedom, freeborn English men
Had never thought to see wholly erased.
She stills her shocked sense with the hope that when
The first flush fear of death has slowly phased
Into a time of better courage we
Shall not seek refuge in a prison state
That fools itself it can beat death, but free
Again to look and think and contemplate,
Acknowledges our finite nature calls
For traffic noise, and pubs and shopping malls!