Now nothing can pierce the silence of this day As though not a living thing had voice Nor crept along these deserted streets in morning To cry out in song or make a noise; The sky of such blue and particloud in gray Where rays of the sun through branches fall And coldly despite the gold of their arches forming A shadowy woods upon the wall; The pavements remain uncolored, stretch away Their markings of yellow go 'round the bend And wordlessly point a way unseen in warning That merciless things it may yet send; But traveler's talk Is voiceless thought And unremarked, worlds may pass along his way Unreason may chatter This is no matter As nothing can pierce the silence of this day.