AT AN EARTHWORKS.
Ringed high with turf the arena lies, •'The neighboring world unseen, unheard, Here are but unhorizoned skies, And on the skies a passing bird, The conies and a wandering sheep. The castings of the chambered mole, These, and the haunted years that keep Lost agonies of blood and soul. They say that in the midnight moon The ghostly legions gather yet, And hear a ghostly timbrel-tune. And see a ghostly combat met. These are but yeoman’s tales. And here No marvel on the midnight falls. But starlight marvellously clear, .; Being girdled in these shadowy walls. ' : --- Yet now strange glooms of ancestry f Creep on me through this morning light, • Some spectral self is seeking me . , .;> I will not parley with the night. ; ■ John Drinkwater, in the English Review.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/NZT19190619.2.71
Bibliographic details
New Zealand Tablet, 19 June 1919, Page 35
Word Count
131AT AN EARTHWORKS. New Zealand Tablet, 19 June 1919, Page 35
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