Classic and Contemporary Poetry
BARNSLEY COLLIERY EXPLOSION, by JANET HAMILTON Poet's Biography First Line: Far, far below - oh! Far below Last Line: Avert the dangers of the mine. Alternate Author Name(s): Hamilton, Janet Thompson Subject(s): Coal Mines & Miners; Death; Tragedy; Dead, The | ||||||||
LINES SUGGESTED BY HEARING OF THE RECENT DREADFUL COLLIERY EXPLOSIONS, WITH THE ATTENDANT FEARFUL LOSS OF LIFE AT THAT PLACE, 1866. FAR, far belowoh! far below, Where sulphurous lightnings flash and glow, Where blasting, bellowing thunders roar With rending crashdark Stygian shore; Black gulf of horrors, dark, profound. Where ambush'd demons lurk around Waiting to light the horrid gloom With lurid, scorching, fiery spume Of deadly gases. Woe, oh, woe! How long, how long shall it be so! How long be sacrificed in vain These hideous hecatombs of slain! Pale Science weeps, her troubled eye Falls on the victims as they lie Scorched, crushed, and mutilated forms, Dire wrecks of subterranean storms, That ravage with resistless sweep Those regions of the deeper deep. For she had studied, searched, and toiled, Had seen her best inventions foiled With "Can't be troubled," "'Tis no use," "Too much expense," neglect, abuse Of her injunctions. Hark! the shock Explosive through the cavern rock, The scathing fire, the choking damp. "Do you not use the safety lamp?" You ask of some poor writhing wretch. "The fireman quite forgot to fetch The warning light. Alas, alas! Our naked lights fired off the gas; The mine was foul, and must explode, And then along the flame-swept road A hundred smouldering corpses lay. Yet I survivewoe worth the day!" What wailing shrieks, what groans of woe, What tears of burning anguish flow From eyes that weep the heart-springs dry! What calls that meet with no reply! The grey-haired widow calls her boy Her duteous lad, her pride and joy; Sobbing, the newly-wedded wife Calls on the partner of her life; The widowed mother to her breast Her orphan babe hath closely pressed; And, followed by a childish train, Calls on the father's name in vain. Alas! that voice, once loved and dear, Will reach no more his death-closed ear. Now angel Pity, hand in hand With Charity, walks through the land; Benevolence, strong in wealth and power, Sheds from both hands a golden shower, Till hearts bereaved hail, even in grief, With grateful tears the blest relief. Ah! it is well it should be so: But there are words of deeper woe "Than even the wail above the dead." What of the soul so quickly sped To that dark bourne, that unknown shore Whence traveller can return no more? We may not lift the awful veil, Nor, if we might, would it avail; Their state is fixed; yet all must know Who labour in the "shades below," That, standing face to face with death, He with a blasta flasha breath May quench the life. Then oh, beware! You may with caution, means, and care, And trust in Providence Divine, Avert the dangers of the mine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FRIEND KILLED IN THE WAR by ANTHONY HECHT FOR JAMES MERRILL: AN ADIEU by ANTHONY HECHT TARANTULA: OR THE DANCE OF DEATH by ANTHONY HECHT CHAMPS D?ÇÖHONNEUR by ERNEST HEMINGWAY NOTE TO REALITY by TONY HOAGLAND A BALLAD FOUNDED ON A REAL INCIDENT WHICH OCCURED IN HIGH LIFE by JANET HAMILTON |
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