“THE king was silent. In the blazoned hall
Shadows, more mute than at a funeral
True mourners, waited, waited in the gloom;
Waited to hear what child was in the womb
Of his high thoughts. As dead men were we all;
As dead men wait the trumpet in the tomb.
The king was silent. Tense the high-strung air
Must save itself by trembling—if it dare.
Then a lone shudder ran across the space;
Each man ashamed to see his fellow’s face,
Each troubled and confused. He did not spare
Our fear—he spake not yet a little space.” [via]