A Saxon Epitaph / Marjorie Pickthall

A Saxon Epitaph
The earth builds on the earth Castles and towers; The earth saith of the earth: All shall be ours.

Yea, though they plan and reap The rye and the corn, Lo, they were bond to Sleep Ere they were born.

Yea, though the blind earth sows For the fruit and the sheaf, They shall harvest the leaf of the rose And the dust of the leaf.

Pride of the sword and power Are theirs at their need Who shall rule but the root of the flower The fall of the seed.

They who follow the flesh In splendour and tears, They shall rest and clothe them afresh In the fulness of years.

From the dream of the dust they came As the dawn set free. They shall pass as the flower of the flame Or the foam of the sea.

The earth builds on the earth Castles and towers. The earth saith of the earth: All shall be ours.