Armistice Day

BIRDS stayed not their singing,

The heart its beating,

The blood its steady coursing.

   The child in the dark womb

Stirred; dust settled in the tomb.

Old wounds were still smarting,

Echoes were hollow-sounding,

New desires still upspringing.

   No silent Armistice might stay

Life and Death, wrangling in the old way.

Earth's pulse still was beating,

The bright stars circling;

Only our tongues were hushing.

   While Time ticked silent on, men drew

A deeper breath than passion knew.

John Freeman

Index to poems in the collection by John Freeman