The Invaders
Coming by night, furtively, one by one
They infiltrate according to the Plan,
Their orders memorized and their disguise
Impenetrable. With the rising sun
Our citizens welcome them. Nobody can
Think that such charming creatures might be spies.
So feeble, so helpless, no one could suspect
They come to make this commonwealth their prey;
So few, they pose no threat; their cohort grows
So imperceptibly that we neglect
To notice how it musters day by day
And, unalarmed, we watch as they impose
Themselves, make friends in all directions, take
Impressions of all keys. They gain access
To all our secrets; learn to speak our tongue
Like natives; profit by each false move we make;
Work on our weaknesses; observe and guess
The sources of power and study them to be strong.
And when it happens, there will be no fuss,
No streets running with blood, no barricade.
We shall simply wake one morning to discover,
As those who ruled this city before us
Found by each door a headstone and a spade,
That a new generation has taken over.
Commentary
This poem by Australian poet A.D. Hope (1907-2000) is based on an utterly simple idea, with an underlying tension (even menace) beautifully developed, and brilliantly resolved in the final line. Like Hope’s “Ode on the Death of Pius the Twelfth”1 this poem deals with the issue of age and death, which are recurrent themes for Hope (see also2) – as they are, of course, for many poets.
The poem is from A.D. Hope, A Late Picking: Poems 1965-1974. (Sydney: Angus & Robertson, 1975)
— William Grey
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Poem #1764, Ode on the Death of Pius the Twelfth – A.D. Hope ↩