And the shops shut, the bleached
Established names on the sunblinds,
The farthings and sovereigns,
And dark-clothed children at play
Called after kings and queens,
The tin advertisements
For cocoa and twist, and the pubs
Wide open all day;
And the countryside not caring:
The place names all hazed over
With flowering grasses and fields
Shadowing Domesday lines
Under wheat's restless silence;
The differently-dressed servants
With tiny rooms in huge houses,
The dust behind limousines;
The wheat harvest will continue. The  oxymoron , “restless silence” suggests unease, as if nature is more aware than humans of the disaster to come.  The wheat is  personified  as if predicting impending events, which of course the reader is aware of.  But for the moment, for those who lived at the time, the sound of it blowing in the wind would be melodic, natural and calming.
MCMXIV re-transcribed