Russia and America circle each other; 
Threats nudge an act that were without doubt 
A melting of the mould in the mother,
Stones melting about the root. 

The quick of the earth burned out:
The toil of all our ages a loss
With leaf and insect. Yet flitting thought 
(Not to be thought ridiculous) 

Shies from the world-cancelling black
Of its playing shadow: it has learned 
That there's no trusting (trusting to luck) 
Dates when the world's due to be burned; 

That the future's no calamitous change 
But a malingering of now, 
Histories, towns, faces that no 
Malice or accident much derange. 

And though bomb be matched against bomb, 
Though all mankind wince out and nothing endure — 
Earth gone in an instant flare — 
Did a lesser death come 

Onto the white hospital bed 
Where one, numb beyond her last of sense, 
Closed her eyes on the world's evidence 
And into pillows sunk her head.