Saturday, June 25, 2016

Thorpe Langton this afternoon: In Time of ‘The Breaking of Nations’

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 onward the same
Though Dynasties pass. 
Yonder a maid and her wight
Come whispering by:
War’s annals will cloud into night
Ere their story die.

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