When I came across the above photo in my search for images to use for a header to Fjordman’s recent post, it made me think of the following poem by Wilfred Owen.

The poem was written during the Great War, and depicts a scene in Edinburgh, where Owen was hospitalized. It evokes a melancholy but nostalgic atmosphere, seemingly hearkening back to idyllic Edwardian days, now lost forever.

The sinking of the Titanic, which occurred just a few years before the writing of the poem, was part of those days, and might have been the “news of all the nations” peddled by the pale rain-flawed news boy in Princes Street:

Six O’Clock in Princes Street

by Wilfred Owen

In twos and threes, they have not far to roam,
Crowds that thread eastward, gay of eyes;
Those seek no further than their quiet home,
Wives, walking westward, slow and wise.

Neither should I go fooling over clouds,
Following gleams unsafe, untrue,
And tiring after beauty through star-crowds,
Dared I go side by side with you;

Or be you in the gutter where you stand,
Pale rain-flawed phantom of the place,
With news of all the nations in your hand,
And all their sorrows in your face.