Читать книгу The Searchlights - Wilfrid Wilson Gibson - Страница 8

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Her sad eyes on the screen, she tries to keep

Her mind on the story, all about those strange

Americans whose lives would seem to be

So unlike anything she had known. A change

For her, could she enjoy such luxury—

Sure that, in spite of each calamity,

She would come to the happy ending, after all!

The happy ending.... Again the shadows creep

Into her mind and even seem to crawl,

Blurring the picture, over the bright screen,

Blacking it out for a moment ...

Blacking it out for a moment ...When a scene,

Invisible to those neighbouring staring eyes,

Is flashed before her mind. And now she sees

A soldier stroll towards her down the street,

Whistling, with hands in pockets, at his ease:

And, as they come together, their eyes meet

As if in recognition, although they

Were strangers to each other till to-day.

Startled, they stop; and then he speaks to her;

And in a twinkling they are chattering

Gaily about every blessed thing

That comes into their heads. Soon happily

They turn and side by side they saunter on,

He, doing most of the talking; while dreamily

She knows, and queerly knows without surprise,

That for the first time she has come to life,

And there’s nothing left to wish for ...

Now a stir

About her in the audience: and she hears

A bored man grumble sourly to his wife

Who sits there dribbling sentimental tears—

And in a flash the happy scene is gone;

And now she gazes with eyes dimmed with pain

At those strange antics on the screen again—

But only for a moment, as once more

Her private vision holds her ...

And she sees

Herself alone now sheltering under trees,

While through the night the heavens seem to pour

In one vast sheet of rain, awaiting him

After her long day in the factory,

A day in which the shells had seemed to swim

Before her eyes like fishes in a sea

Of bright anticipations. In the wet

She awaits—for, surely, he could not forget!

And still awaits till long beyond the time

He had mentioned to her, promising to be

There without fail. And hour after hour

She awaits, until from the unseen church tower

Suddenly the four quarters tinkling chime

And the great bells booms out midnight ...

Laughter now

Ripples through all the cinema; and she

Rouses, to see fantastic creatures prance

Across the screen and a crazy Disney cow

Leading an ancient milkmaid a mad dance.

She watches them, unsmiling ...

She watches them, unsmiling ...Then again

She sees herself there, waiting in the rain,

Waiting for ever in a steady pour,

Waiting for someone who will come no more,

Waiting till Doomsday strikes ...

If only she

Could know why he had failed her! whether he

Were faithless to her, or, if hastily

And secretly his regiment had been

Without a warning rushed off to the war—

If only she could know ...

Again the screen

Catches her eye: and now she sees men fight

And fall in heaps, smashed by a swooping flight

Of devilish dive-bombers. Suddenly,

Reeling in death, one turns towards the light

A white drawn face, like Jim’s, if Jim should be ...

Blindly she leaves her seat, and blunderingly

Rushes out into the black drenching night.