IT wall be soft, the sound that we shall hear
When we have reached the end of time and light.
A quiet, final noise within the ear
Before we are returned into the night.
A sound for each to recognize and fear
In one enormous moment, as he grieves —
A sound of rustling, dry and very near,
A sudden fluttering of all the leaves.
It will be heard in all the open air
Above the fading rumble of the guns,
And we shall stand uneasily and stare,
The finally forsaken, lonely ones.
From all the distant secret places then
A little breeze will shift across the sky,
When all the earth at last is free of men
And settles, with a vast and easy sigh.