by D. H. Lawrence
Because of the silent snow, we are all hushed
No sound of guns, nor overhead no rushed
Vibration to draw
Our attention out of the void wherein we are crushed.
A crow floats past on level wings
Uninterrupted silence swings
To and fro in our misgivings.
We do not look at each other, we hide
Our daunted eyes.
White earth, and ruins, ourselves, and nothing beside.
It all belies
Our existence; we wait, and are still denied.
We are folded together, men and the snowy ground
There is silence, only the silence, never a sound
Nor a verity
To assist us; disastrously silence-bound!