A farmer guides his horses through a field that was recently meadow, and the plough cuts into the earth, disturbing nests, exposing old bones, arrowheads, and flint tools. Hungry rooks gather behind to feed. Watching this, the speaker feels the strange nearness of forgotten history—there may be brave defeats or victories buried in the soil, but no one remembers them and no one asks. The farmer simply keeps ploughing. The mood is quiet and slightly sad, mixing the steady energy of farm work with a sense of all the hidden lives and stories that vanish under the ground.
Hidden Tales — Summary
The proud and sturdy horses Gather their willing forces, Unswerving make their courses Over the brown Earth that was mowing meadow A month agone, where shadow And light in the tall grasses Quivered and was gone. They spoil the nest of plover And lark, turn up, uncover The bones of many a lover Unfamed in tales; Arrows, old flints of hammers, The rooks with hungry clamours Hover around and settle Seeking full meals. Who knows what splendid story Lies here, what hidden glory Of brave defeat or victory This earth might show. None cares; the surging horses Gather untiring forces The keen-eyed farmer after Guiding the plough.