The Castle

All through that summer at ease we lay,

And daily from the turret wall

We watched the mowers in the hay

And the enemy half a mile away

They seemed no threat to us at all.

(...)

How can this shameful tale be told?

I will maintain until my death

We could do nothing, being sold;

Our only enemy was gold,

And we had no arms to fight it with.

Edwin Muir