I
I should like to imagine
A moonlight in which there would be no machine-guns!
For, it is possible
To come out of a trench or a hut or a tent or a church all in ruins:
To see the black perspective of long avenues
All silent.
The white strips of sky
At the sides, cut by the poplar trunks:
The white strips of sky
Above, diminishing--
The silence and blackness of the avenue
Enclosed by immensities of space
Spreading away
Over No Man's Land....
For a minute ...
For ten ...
There will be no star shells
But the untroubled stars,
There will be no _Very_ light
But the light of the quiet moon
Like a swan.
And silence....
Then, far away to the right thro' the moonbeams
"_Wukka Wukka_" will go the machine-guns,
And, far away to the left
_Wukka Wukka_.
And sharply,
_Wuk_ ... _Wuk_ ... and then silence
For a space in the clear of the moon.