Only a man harrowing clods

Only a man harrowing clods

by Thomas Hardy

 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 wight2

Come whispering by:

War's annals will cloud into night

Ere their story die.