The Curse by Arthur C. Clarke

The future nuclear war was once a common trope in SF.  Although threats remain, it hasn't seized the consciousness of the contemporary SF writer.  Or maybe they feel all that needs to be said, has been.

This 1946 story had to be one of the earliest examples.  Clarke brings the war home to England where twenty bombs alone hit London.  You might say this has spoilers, but as the story has no plot or character, I'm not sure how it can be.

This vignette packs poignant irony.  First, though the light of day is dying--enlightenment, it might be read as well--light due to radiation keeps the graves readable.  The   second relates to Shakespeare's tombstone epitaph in Stratford upon Avon that reads*,

GOOD FREND FOR IESUS SAKE FORBEARE,
TO DIGG THE DVST ENCLOASED HEARE.
BLESTE BE YE MAN YT SPARES THES STONES,
AND CVRST BE HE YT MOVES MY BONES.

Here the irony pointed out is that no curse, forthrightly stated, is carried out.  However, a far greater curse has befallen England, irrevocably changing life and its environment.

*An interesting if irrelevant comment about Shakespeare's grave may be found here.