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The Ballad of the White Horse by G. K. (Gilbert Keith) Chesterton
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THE BALLAD OF THE WHITE HORSE

By G.K. Chesterton




DEDICATION



Of great limbs gone to chaos,
A great face turned to night--
Why bend above a shapeless shroud
Seeking in such archaic cloud
Sight of strong lords and light?

Where seven sunken Englands
Lie buried one by one,
Why should one idle spade, I wonder,
Shake up the dust of thanes like thunder
To smoke and choke the sun?