Stonehenge
Gaunt on the cloudy plain
Stand the great Stones,
Dwarfed in the vast reach
Of a sky that owns
All the measure of earth
Within its cloud—hung cave.
Dumb stands the Circle
As on a God’s grave.
But clattering with horses
Up from the valley,
With horses and horsemen
At a trot, gaily
Dragging the limbered guns,
Youth comes riding,—
Easy sits, mettlesome
Horses bestriding.
Fast come the twinkling hoofs,
Light wheels and guns,
Invading the upland,
And sweep past the Stones.
Giant those shapes now
Over them tower,—
Time’s dark stature
Over Youth’s fleet hour.
Ribs of dismemoried Earth,
Guard what you may!
The Immortals also
Pass, nor stay.
