Currently viewing: Thoughts → Domesday
Domesday
When he, from kingly height surveys
The wonders of mine own,
One wonders how he contemplates
Me, on my wooden throne.
For me they write no homilies;
No levies may I raise,
But I may raise a family
And see us through our days.
No glimmering jewels do I collect—
Impoverished are we.
Yet I think we, in most respects,
Are just as rich as he.
His riches lie on battlefields,
In ever-furrowed brows;
Our “poverty’s” in furrowed fields,
And odes to here and now.
Foes, fighting to usurp the crown,
Flow from the west and east,
While serfs? We meet together, and down
Our meagre, sumptuous feast.
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