 | Collected poems of Thomas Hardy |  |
511
IN TIME OF “THE BREAKING OF NATIONS”
I
Only a man harrowing clodsIn a slow silent walk
With an old horse that stumbles and nods
Half asleep as they stalk.
II
Only thin smoke without flameFrom the heaps of couch-grass;
Yet this will go onward the same
Though Dynasties pass.
III
Yonder a maid and her wightCome whispering by:
War's annals will cloud into night
Ere their story die.
1915.
| Collected poems of Thomas Hardy | |