Poem for the day

In TIme of `The Breaking of Nations`

Only a man harrowing clods
In a slow silent walk
With a horse that stumbles and nods
Half asleep as they stalk.

Only thin smoke without flame
From the heaps of couch-grass;
Yet this will onward the same
Though the Dynasties pass.

Yonder a maid and her wight
Come whispering by:
War`s annals will cloud into night
Ere their story die.

Thomas Hardy (1840 - 1928)

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