THE THREE SPIRES OF COVENTRY
By Edith Wilkinson
Three slender spires pointing to the heavens
Their feet set firm through many a century.
A Trinity, like fingers raised in Benediction.
Shaped by craftsmen of old .
Yet still they stand through storms and wars and conflict.
A sign for anyone who cares to see.
As the spires shall stand triumphant,
The spirit of old shall evermore be free.
They stand as they have stood for generations
Traders, kinsfolk, gathered in their homes.
Nestling at their feet with timbered walls
And overhanging gables that stood the test
Of time’s decaying hand.
Standing quietly from day to day, the years
Gently ebbing and flowing until they passed away.
Yet still they stand, these monuments of ancient
Craftsmanship, until the twentieth century.
In their full glory stood. Day followed day,
Life was full and prosperous, this city of a
Dozen trades, made fair.
Good people went about their chosen business,
Prosperity and security was in the air.
Till ‘war’ with one word, that went around
The world; Exploded; “Coventrated”, wiped out
All the splendid schemes, left the ruins of the
City, ashes, with three spires, still standing.
To remind them of their dreams.
Erect and pointing proudly, through flames
And smoke, as though defying still, the evil yoke.
The folk braved the German blitzkriegs
And saw their ancient city razed to the dust.
Made way through the rubble of their homesteads
Queued for hours, for water and for bread.
They grieved, when flames ravaged their fair
City and hundreds perished, as the planes roared
Overhead: They kept heart and spirit of old .
The city, from ashes, newly risen,
Now proudly left.
Three slender spires, trademark of the city
Though stones may perish through the years to be.
The story of this city, that rose again from the ashes
Will be written on the pages of our history.
All look to a brighter future, brave hopes
And gentle charity; The message rising from
The spires of , may keep us all
In Christian unity.
Although this is not a poem submitted to HOBO, my attention was drawn to a pamphlet of poems by Edith Wilkinson called BRIGHT FLAME – who died on . It was published posthumously by her daughters – Diane, Christine and Lynda c 1968. Some of the poems were very inspirational I thought. I would think there would be a copy in Coventry Central Library if anybody is intersted in it.
Comments