In Time Of Poem by Thomas Hardy
In Time Of
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 onwards the same
Though Dynasties pass.
III
Yonder a maid and her wight
Go whispering by:
War's annals will cloud into night
Ere their story die.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/24/2024 11:00:34 AM # 1.0.0.1119
