SINCE I lost you I am
silence-haunted,
Sounds wave their little wings
A moment, then in weariness
settle
On the flood that soundless
swings.
Whether the people in the
street
Like pattering ripples go by,
Or whether the theatre sighs
and sighs
With a loud, hoarse sigh:
Or the wind shakes a ravel of
light
Over the dead-black river,
Or night’s last echoing
Makes the daybreak
shiver:
I feel the silence
waiting
To take them all up again
In its vast completeness, enfolding
The sound of
men.