THE DEAD IN EUROPEAfter the planes unloaded, we fell downBuried together, unmarried men and women;Not crown of thorns, not iron, not Lombard crown,Not grilled and spindle spires pointing to heavenCould save us. Raise us, Mother, we fell downHere hugger-mugger in the jellied fire:Our sacred earth in our day was our curse.Our Mother, shall we rise on Marys dayIn Maryland, wherever corpses marriedUnder the rubble, bundled together? PrayFor us whom the blockbusters marred and buried;When Satan scatters us on Rising-day,O Mother, snatch our bodies from the fire:Our sacred earth in our day was our curse.Mother, my bones are trembling and I hearThe earths reverberations and the trumpetBleating into my shambles. Shall I bear,(O Mary!) unmarried man and powder-puppet,Witness to the Devil? Mary, hearO Mary, marry earth, sea, air and fire;Our sacred earth in our day is our curse. -- Robert LowellFrom the July 12, 1946 issue of Commonweal