Bad Smells Tobacco-Clouds That Rise Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

bad smells tobacco-clouds that rise
continually from earth unwanted;
the earth stinks - we are on it, condemned!

The globes of white light that shine
White in the evening serenade by Hastings
Taut thin and earthy shine and raw:
Hours will pass - till they start flickering
And waning at the touches of the dawn.

I think I saw green goblins on the walls
Of the high bastions - in the night
The owl unruffled in its feathers slept;
The nightingale hath refused to sing
The ants in mourning garb funereal crawl.

The earth stinks - its wounds will never close!