And whilst they fete the babe of Bethlehem,
Ten thousand babes on earth die painful deaths
And millions live to live lives worse than death
And still the massacre of innocents
Goes on relentlessly. Poor innocents!
LINES TO THE WOOLWORTH BUILDING
Imposing pile of pale and polished stone,
Cathedral-like in thy solemnity,
Thy rectilinear grandeur awes my soul,
And makes me shudder!