They are pulling down the old wall.
The stones are being scattered left and right.
They who so often felt the starshine fall like a caress upon their brows at night;
they whom the sun kissed day by day are being carted roughly far away.
They have been so many years together;
in close companionship, so much they've seen and heard;
enjoyed the calm and braved the stormy weather;
so much within their purview has occurred.
They who have lived so closely side by side are separated, scattered far and wide.
How hurt these good old stones must feel!
For they have made a pattern, once, for beauty.
They clung together for the common weal;
comrades they were, performing their high duty.
They're flung to left and right, and no one cares.
Only a passer-by with pity stares.
Wilhelmina Stitch
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-old-wall/
