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Stephen Phillips (Стивен Филлипс)


The Hush


There is a hush before the thunder-jar,
When white the steeples against purple stand:
There is a hush when night with star on star
Goes ashen on the summer like a brand.
Now a more awful pause appals the soul,
When concentrating armies crouch to spring;
Stillness more fraught than any thunder-roll,
Dawn European with a redder wing.
The Teuton host 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 as a myth shall reel;
Vainly they fight, if first they cannot feel. 



Stephen Phillips's other poems:
  1. To a Lost Love
  2. Orestes
  3. The Shirker
  4. Beautiful Lie The Dead
  5. Ты после смерти, милая, живёшьO Thou Art Put To Many Uses, Sweet!


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