And like the stillness of stiff grass The stillness of tyranny.
“Over our white souls also Wild heresies and highWave prouder than the plumes of grass, And sadder than their sigh.
"And I go riding against the raid, And ye know not where I am;But ye shall know in a day or year,When one green star of grass grows here;Chaos has charged you, charger and spear, Battle-axe and battering-ram.
"And though skies alter and empires melt, This word shall still be true:If we would have the horse of old, Scour ye the horse anew.
"One time I followed a dancing star That seemed to sing and nod,And ring upon earth all evil's knell;But now I wot if ye scour not well,Red rust shall grow on God's great bell, And grass in the streets of God."
Ceased Alfred; and above his head The grand green domes, the Downs,
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