Absolute Silence

That's what the wavering voice in the wind calls

As the old ones stand at the front by signs

Some barking, some indifferent to the brawls

Of youth who stand in scattered lines

And it seems to me in the almost hush

With rubbish gulls, wheeling in the thrumb 

Of frozen sky and cutting winds that brush

The hapless helpless faces of the young

That we are on the edge of some deep dark

Soldiers in uniforms unaware they'll soon embark