[Stanza 1] For days these curious cardboard buds have lain In brightly coloured boxes. Soon the night Will come. We pray there'll be no sullen rain To make these magic orchids flame less bright. [Stanza 2] Now in the garden's darkness they begin To flower: the frenzied whizz of Catherine-wheel Puts forth its fiery petals and the thin Rocket soars too burst upon the steel [Stanza 3] Bulwark of a cloud. And then the guy, Absurdly human phoenix, is again Gulped by greedy flames: the harvest sky Is flecked with threshed and glittering golden grain. [Stanza 4] ‘Uncle! A cannon! Watch me as I light it!' The women helter-skelter, squealing high, Retreat; the paper fuse is quickly lit, A cat-like hiss, and spit of fire, a sly [Stanza 5] Falter, then the air is shocked with blast, The cannon bangs and in my nostrils drifts A bitter scent that brings the lurking past Lurching to my side. The present shots, [Stanza 6] Allows a ten-year memory to walk Unhindered now; and so I'm forced to hear The banshee howl of mortar and the talk Of men who died, am forced to taste my fear. [Stanza 7] I listen for a moment to the guns, The torn earth's grunts, recalling how I prayed. The past retreats. I hear a corpse's sons - ‘Who's scared of bangers!' ‘Uncle John's afraid!'