by G.A. Compton
Wide marked with fallow graves is patient earth
Where peasants, scheming rogues and palsied kings
Crept to the teeming womb that gave them birth
To boast a brief dominion over things.
She watched them fashion crowns from her best gold;
And from her ore, hot gyves and blades of war;
She saw them scratch papyrus with the bold
And childish letters, lord and avatar.
Earth laves her wounds with rain spun from her seas,
And drops a seed upon her shrinking scars--
Then, rhythmic beauty dances to the breeze
With arms of silver waving at the stars-
Thru centuries its liquid finger mulls
Its nectar in the crater of men's skulls.