A Saxon Epitaph

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   The earth builds on the earth
   Castles and towers; 
   The earth saith of the earth: 
   All shall be ours.
       Yea, though they plan and reap
       The rye and the corn,
       Lo, they were bond to Sleep
       Ere they were born.
       Yea, though the blind earth sows
      For the fruit and the sheaf,
      They shall harvest the leaf of the rose
      And the dust of the leaf.

      Pride of the sword and power
      Are theirs at their need
      Who shall rule but the root of the flower
      The fall of the seed.

      They who follow the flesh
      In splendour and tears,
      They shall rest and clothe them afresh
      In the fulness of years.

      From the dream of the dust they came
      As the dawn set free.
      They shall pass as the flower of the flame
      Or the foam of the sea.

          The earth builds on the earth
          Castles and towers.
          The earth saith of the earth:
          All shall be ours.

© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall