Only a man harrowing clods,
in a slow silent walk
with and 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;
wars annals will fade into
night
ere thier story die.
