In Time Of
Only a man harrowing clods
In a slow silent walk
With an old horse that stumbles and nods
Half asleep as they stalk.
Only thin smoke without flame
From the heaps of couch-grass;
Yet this will go onwards the same
Though Dynasties pass.
Yonder a maid and her wight
Go whispering by:
War's annals will cloud into night
Ere their story die.
No comments:
Post a Comment