POEMS FROM A TENDER AGE
Legend of Arthur
Could ever be,in Avebury,
a winter's sun that day ?
When Saxon round, on English ground,
a fortune did they pay.
For peace . . . !
In all the kingdoms of Wessex - Cotswolds then.
And borderlands of Cymru,
. . of Badbury . . and men.
Hold onto the shires that breathéd life
of Angles, Welsh and Dane.
And after Roman legions, of serf . . and Lord . . and thane.
A mystery . . !
A Holy Grail . . !
Lies deep beneath our feet.
Did e'er the tower'd Camelot
stand high upon the mound of Badon.
Or hail aloft . . with seaward eye
on stretchered earthwork, Mai~Dun ?
Plate - armour'd hero Arthur,
what fortress held you then ?
Where lies the bones of him who lives
within the hearts of men ?
a winter's sun that day ?
When Saxon round, on English ground,
a fortune did they pay.
For peace . . . !
In all the kingdoms of Wessex - Cotswolds then.
And borderlands of Cymru,
. . of Badbury . . and men.
Hold onto the shires that breathéd life
of Angles, Welsh and Dane.
And after Roman legions, of serf . . and Lord . . and thane.
A mystery . . !
A Holy Grail . . !
Lies deep beneath our feet.
Did e'er the tower'd Camelot
stand high upon the mound of Badon.
Or hail aloft . . with seaward eye
on stretchered earthwork, Mai~Dun ?
Plate - armour'd hero Arthur,
what fortress held you then ?
Where lies the bones of him who lives
within the hearts of men ?
