Alone with the sound of music from the dugout,
Taking my tea with the dregs from the rum jug,
Feeling the warm dry winds of July,
The silent guns had me think that
the war was over and I
Could stand beneath the sky
and think I was home
in Somerset
Till a shot
Rang out.
Inspired by the quiet sectors of the Western Front, where the nights were almost silent.
This wasn't intentional, but if you look the shape of the poem kind of resembles the foreshortened outline of a Lee-Enfield rifle.