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Stones Hares make their home beneath majestic stones. Grave stones fling shadows to the homes of hares. Upon the rounded mound, and in the cairn, Beyond the broken, jumbled urns, they bask, Dreaming of rocky heights and crannied cliffs, The rambling centuries gone, the endlessness; The shaggy men who danced beneath the domes, Calling the spirits to their sacrifice. And these brought herbs, and those brought venison, And others brought the flesh of mortal men. Now all is silent as the lark ascends, The spirits rise and spiral into song. Indifferently time has allowed their tune, Impassive witness, till we sink the world. |
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