Page:The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge, 1919.djvu/92

 AN OLD PAIN

old, old pain is this that bleeds anew?

What old and wandering dream forgotten long

Hobbles back to my mind? With faces two,

Like Janus of old Rome, I look about,

And yet discover not what ancient wrong

Lies unrequited still. No speck of doubt

Upon to-morrow's promise. Yet a pain

Of some dumb thing is on me, and I feel

How men go mad, how faculties do reel

When these old querns turn round within the brain.

86