AFTER

Over the din of battle,

Over the cannons’ rattle,

Over the strident voices of men and their dying groans,

I hear the falling of thrones.

Out of the wild disorder

That spreads from border to border,

I see a new world rising from ashes of ancient towns;

And the Rulers wear no crowns.

Over the blood-charged water,

Over the fields of slaughter,

Down to the hidden vaults of Time, where lie the worn-out things

I see the passing of Kings.