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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=409133" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ages</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=409133" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In that stone head, obscenity<br>Has been preserved a thousand years;<br>A bible-leaf of families<br>Have shuddered at the pointed ears.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=409133" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The sword that hangs upon the wall<br>Is notched the length of its long blade,<br>And children at the village school<br>Dream of the trusses it has mowed.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=409133" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Close against the lichened tower<br>Still lives a witch. Around her head<br>She wears a shawl, and white as flour<br>Her lips count every step she treads.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=409133" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">But when the dusk-born lovers stand<br>The figure sobs, 'Oh where's my soul?'<br>The sword sighs for the long-dead hand,<br>The old hag huddles from the owl.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Henry+Treece">Henry Treece</a></strong></div>

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