Past noon, past the strong Hour for full song, -- However late -- Mere silence holds me. Here are met Furious winds, and the great Quiet is desperate. Utterly still they stand locked. Once only the earth rocked With the weakening of one. This is battle, forehead-on. Barbarous singing follows when One triumphs. Now the centre Tightens again, Closes. None enter -- It is silent where Wrestles the air. |