Mildred Moody's Poem
Courtesy of Kerri Griffith

My name is Kerri Griffith. My grandmother lost her cousin, Claude Kilgore, in the explosion, and ever since childhood I've been curious about the horrific tragedy. My grandma passed away several years ago, and I received boxes full of family papers—cards, notes, poems, and other memorabilia. I was looking through everything and found a poem my great aunt, Mildred Moody, wrote about the explosion. If you would like to feel free to post it on the website. I never knew Mildred—she died not long after 1937.

[Ed. note: Personal comments deleted from above.]

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The New London School Blast
By Mildred Moody

The sun arose brightly that morning
beginning another new day. A world
full of joy for each girl and each boy
and sorrow seemed far away.

The children were told to be good
by mothers so loving and kind.
As they tripped off to school, not one
of them knew they were leaving
their loved ones behind.

They studied their lessons, as usual,
as many a time before. Not a warning
to one that fate had begun its business
of striking once more.

All at once, through the great school building
a terrific noise burst forth. Not a moment
to wonder of that loud roaring thunder
that deafened the girls and the boys.

So suddenly everything happened,
had it waited a few minutes more,
school would have been out.
Hundreds died just like flies,
so heedless their cries. Before
help was summoned, no doubt.

News travels swiftly, you know,
and before many hours had past,
while death kept on walking,
the whole world was talking
of the New London Blast.

All through the night, people waited
as they carried out the dead, one by one.
With their eyes full of tears, their hearts full of fear,
afraid for their missing daughters and sons.