“

Only a man harrowing clods
In a slow silent walk
With an 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;
War’s annals will cloud into night
Ere their story die.