Between the waving tufts of jungle-grass

Between the waving tufts of jungle-grass,
Up from the river as the twilight falls,
Across the dust-beclouded plain they pass
On to the village walls.

Great is the sword and mighty is the pen,
But over all the labouring ploughman's blade —
For on its oxen and its husbandmen
An Empire's strength is laid.
The Oxen .
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