The old stones of this road have rung with iron black-shod hoofs and drums where I saw him walking up from the sea between the hills soaked red in sunset he came, a boy among the echoes sons and brothers all in ranks of warrior ghosts he came to pass where I sat on the worn final league-stone at day’s end— his stride spoke loud all I needed know of him on this road of stone— the boy walks another soldier, another one bright heart not yet cooled to hard iron MOTHER’S LAMENT ANONYMOUS
