THE FIELDS ARE EMPTY Comments

The fields are empty
Where at another time villages used to flourish,
And echoes of tolling bells doubled back from the hills,
Sobbing the silence of the pines.

A time of manor houses, grand tables set,
A hum of voices and early morning song.

Today the train goes whistling by and indifferent
fingers point to the vine-draped wall:
"Over there was . . .", but already the river comes in sight.
The train shakes the foundations of the bridge.
...
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