GREAT NORTH ROAD
THE kneeling boys in a dark line ;
Dark earth where rain has deepened the Yorkshire loam ; Hands rustling, uprooting a living green, Lifting to the heaped cart ; labour the field Makes holy. Here was seed given and grown, Hoarded as dear, held dormant, driven up, Raised to the sunlight—the last thread holds, The fast weave wears still : touchstone is kept For brook water and flying cloud.
Steadfast this sown for a durable harvest, Resistent of tide as stone.
There is earth under built highways Surviving till their dust, Clover the brick keeps back.
Though clamour- persists through the silence,
Sweeps up the hill- deafening the wind,
Though roar and glitter rave past old beauty, A lark sings still at the edge of the great north road.
, ANN LYON. •