February Afternoon
MEN heard this roar of parleying starlings, saw,A thousand years ago even as now,Black rooks with white gulls following the ploughSo that the first are last until a cawCommands that last are first again,--a lawWhich was of old when one, like me, dreamedhowA thousand years might dust lie on his browYet thus would birds do between hedge and shaw.
Time swims before me, making as a dayA thousand years, while the broad ploughlandoakRoars mill-like and men strike and bear thestrokeOf war as ever, audacious or resigned,And God still sits aloft in the arrayThat we have wrought him, stone-deaf andstone-blind.
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