Upon Silence George Benjamin

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That civilisation may not sink
Its great battle lost
Quiet the dog, tether the pony
To a distant post;
Our master Caesar is in the tent
Where the maps are spread
His eyes fixed upon nothing
A hand under his head
Like a long-legged fly upon the stream
His mind moves upon silence

That the topless towers be burnt
And men recall that face
Move most gently if move you must
In this lonely place
She thinks, part woman, three parts a child
That nobody looks; her feet
Practise a tinker shuffle
Picked up on a street
Like a long-legged fly upon the stream
Her mind moves upon silence

That girls at puberty may find
The first Adam in their thought
Shut the door of the Pope's chapel
Keep those children out
There on that scaffolding reclines
Michael Angelo
With no more sound than the mice make
His hand moves to and fro
Like a long-leggedfly upon the stream
His mind moves upon silence