300
Fleet Street Eclogue
Herbert.
For ever dear to me—
Foot-worn, its bars by many hands
Polished like ebony!
Menzies.
Holds in a fretting bond.
Herbert.
And the fields roll green beyond;
While the antique footpath winds about
By farms and little towns,
By waterways, and in and out,
And up and over the downs.
Menzies.
I hear their children's hungry cries;
I hear the burden of the years;
I hear the drip of women's tears;
I hear despair, whose tongue is dumb,
Speak thunder in the ruthless bomb.
Sandy.
Why hearken such discordant tones?
Herbert.