THE INQUISITORS
by Douglas Howe
"Come," they said, "and tell us why
We cannot use your earth and sky,
Why children in their beds must sleep,
Why field mice should their silence keep
Why thatch and lath and pargeting
Should in our system mean a thing;
Why man who dwells on hallowed plot
Should not endure and share the lot
Of those cowed folk whose misery
Is Gatwick's rant and Heathrow's glee.
Tell us why proud swan should fly
And hold dominion in your sky,
When elsewhere man calls out in prayer
For sweet, calm night and silent air.
"Pray, tell us why 'tis trickery
To ask you where the site should be
If not at Stansted, why 'tis sly
To make you point at others' sky;
To heed not when you plead: 'Devise
For all mankind calm, peaceful skies,'
Nor when you cry: 'The day must be
When Jets shall roost by Thames or sea,
That low-flight's scream of nightmare shrill
Might fall on water's heedless rill
And not on man, who spared may thrive
And feel not cursed to stay alive.'
Come, tell us why our simple play
Should drive support for you away,
Why the method that we choose
Makes other men your cause abuse.
"Sing," they said, "of Thaxted spire,
Pluck Dunmow string, the Broad Oak lyre;
Tell us of your Hatfield Wood
By Molehill Green and Canfield stood;
Chant you long of tithe-barns there
In tranquil towns with moot-halls rare;
Praise Bishop's Stortford for her grace,
Her fine surrounds, her peaceful face;
Speak of your joy in Hadham's thrall,
Of ancient street and studded hall,
Wallbury ring and Roman dell –
Of all your joys and pleasures tell:
To you we'll heed, but tell us why
We cannot ruin your earth and sky."
