Be still. The bleeding night is in suspense <br />Of watchful agony and coloured thought, <br />And every beating vein and trembling sense, <br />Long-tired with time, is pitched and overwrought. <br />And for the eye, <br />The darkness holds strange forms. <br />Soft movements in the leaves, and wicked glows <br />That wait and peer. The whole black landscape <br />swarms <br />With shapes of white and grey that no one knows; <br />And for the ear, a sound, a pause, a breath. <br />The hand has touched the slimy face of death. <br />The mind is raking at the ragged past. <br />……A sound of rifles rattles from the south, <br />and startled orders move from mouth to mouth.<br /><br />Leon Gellert<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-night-attack/
