Stonehenge

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Gaunt on the cloudy plain
Stand the great Stones,
Dwarfed in the vast reach
Of a sky that owns

All the measure of earth
Within its cloud--hung cave.
Dumb stands the Circle
As on a God's grave.

But clattering with horses
Up from the valley,
With horses and horsemen
At a trot, gaily

Dragging the limbered guns,
Youth comes riding,--
Easy sits, mettlesome
Horses bestriding.

Fast come the twinkling hoofs,
Light wheels and guns,
Invading the upland,
And sweep past the Stones.

Giant those shapes now
Over them tower,--
Time's dark stature
Over Youth's fleet hour.

Ribs of dismemoried Earth,
Guard what you may!
The Immortals also
Pass, nor stay.

© Robert Laurence Binyon