Searchlight
There has been no sound of guns,
no roar of exploding bombs;
but the darkness has an edge
that grits the nerves of the sleeper.
He awakens;
nothing disturbs the stillness,
save perhaps the light, slow flap,
once only, of the curtain
dim in the darkness.
Yet there is something else
that drags him from his bed;
and he stands in the darkness
with his feet cold against the floor
and the cold air round his ankles.
[ . . . ]
F.S. Flint's poem "Searchlight" was published in the 1917 Some Imagist Poets anthology. To read this poem in digitized versions of this publication, follow the links below: