FARETPELL CJJOIWS
We are alone with one another, but our eyes
Meet seldom in the dark. What a relentless roar
Stuffs every ear, as though with wool! The winds that rise
Out of our dereliction's vortex, hour by hour,
To bring us word of the incessant wordless guns,
Tirades of the insane, thick hum of 'planes, the rage of fire,
Eruptions, waves: all end in utmost silence in our brains.
"The silence after the viaticum." So silent is the ray
Of naked radiance that lights our actual scene,
Leading the gaze into the nameless and unknown
Extremes of this existence where fear's armour falls away
And lamentation and defeat and pain
Are all transfigured by acceptance; where men see
The tragic splendour of their final destiny.
New Year
1940.
23
