The Ballad Of The White Horse

Excerpt from G.K CHESTERTON - The Ballad Of The White Horse

Of Great limbs gone to Chaos,

A great face turned to night-

Why bend above a shapeless shroud

seeking in such archaic cloud

Sight of strong Lords and Light?

Where seven sunken Englands

Lie buried one by one,

Why should one idle spade, I wonder,

Shake up the dust of thanes like thunder

To smoke and choke the Sun?

In cloud of clay so cast to Heaven

what shape shall men discern?

These Lords may light the mystery

Of Mastery and Victory,

And these ride high in History,

But these shall not return

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