I

Only a man harrowing clods

   In a slow silent walk

With an old horse that stumbles and nods

   Half asleep as they stalk.

II

Only thin smoke without flame

   From the heaps of couch-grass;

Yet this will go onward the same

   Though Dynasties pass.

III

Yonder a maid and her wight

   Come whispering by:

War’s annals will cloud into night

   Ere their story die.

1915.