Page:The Dream, John Masefield, 1922.djvu/26

 And, steadfast as though frozen, swords on hips,

Old armour stood at sentry with old spears

Clutched in steel gloves that glittered at the grips,

Yet housed the little mouse with pointed ears:

Old banners drooped above, frayed into tears

With age and moth that fret the soldier's glory.

I saw a swallow in the clerestory.

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