University of Virginia Library


99

THE HUSH

There is a hush before the thunder-jar,
When white the steeples against purple stand;
There is a hush when night with every star
Pales on the summer like a dwindling brand.
Now a more awful hush appals the soul,
When concentrating armies crouch to spring;
Stillness more pregnant than the thunder-roll,
An European dawn with redder wing.
The Teuton horde no conscience onward drives,
Sullen they come; to slaughter shepherded;
Timed for the shambles with unwilling lives;
With doubt each soldier is already dead.
The massed battalions like a myth shall reel,
Vain but to fight if first they cannot feel.
August, 1914, Before the Battle of Mons.