<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="center" class="head">The Hush</h1><div class="stanza"><p class="line"><span class="smallcaps">There</span> is a hush before the thunder-jar,</p><p class="line">When white the steeples against purple stand:</p><p class="line">There is a hush when night with star on star</p><p class="line">Goes ashen on the summer like a brand.</p><p class="line">Now a more awful pause appals the soul,</p><p class="line">When concentrating armies crouch to spring;</p><p class="line">Stillness more fraught than any thunder-roll,</p><p class="line">Dawn European with a redder wing.</p><p class="line">The Teuton host no conscience onward drives;</p><p class="line">Sullen they come; to slaughter shepherded;</p><p class="line">Timed for the shambles with unwilling lives,</p><p class="line">With doubt each soldier is already dead.</p><p class="line">The massed battalions as a myth shall reel;</p><p class="line">Vainly they fight, if first they cannot feel.</p></div><p class="byline">STEPHEN PHILLIPS</p><em>Times, August</em> 13, 1914</body></html> · Great War