Thomas Hardy


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. 






English Poetry - http://eng-poetry.ru/english/index.php. E-mail eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru