Enoch Powell: First Poems: XLIV) To-night along the lime-trees walk

XLIV) To-night along the lime-trees walk

To-night along the lime-trees walk

The moveless are is mild,

And quietly wife and husband talk,

As they watch their first-born child.

To-night the young men come from play

With half a serious air,

And lovers in the darkening way

A look more wistful wear.

To-night on years I shall not see

My thought more warmly runs

Clearer tonight is born to me

The murmur of the guns.