Page:The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge, 1919.djvu/273

Rh And I, too, told the kings a story

Of later glory, her fourth sorrow:

There was a sound like moving shields

In high green fields and the lowland furrow.

And one said: "We who yet are kings

Have heard these things lamenting inly."

Sweet music flowed from many a bill

And on the hill the morn stood queenly.

And one said: "Over is the singing,

And bell bough ringing, whence we come;

With heavy hearts we'll tread the shadows,

In honey meadows birds are dumb."

And one said: "Since the poets perished

And all they cherished in the way,

Their thoughts unsung, like petal showers

Inflame the hours of blue and gray."