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
Published: Nov 12, 2004 - 04:09 PM
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