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Thomas Hardy - In Time Of `The Breaking Of Nations`
Work rating: Medium

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 a 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.
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