A sign of might and glory past,
A tale of kingdoms, warring oft,
Over which a shadow cast.
In its midst, I stare in thought
Spellbound by its ancient age,
Caught in history and time so long,
Weathering all nature's rage.
And see with thought the busy street.
I hear the silent, ancient noise,
And feel the tramp of many feet.
I ponder for a moment's time,
And muse that where I stand,
Was where a soldier readied stood,
In a fort by hundreds manned.
For as I sweep my gaze around,
The fort had given its face to age,
And no more gave its lively sound.
It once the fringe of kingdoms was,
And kept the Celts at large at bay.
It held the lives of many a man,
But that was in an ancient day.
But oh, the tales it has inside,
Though crumbled down and old,
Of all the men who in it lived,
Nice, Red. (Looks like they have that BEAUTIFUL rain. :)
ReplyDeleteI really like the tone of this poem! My advice would be to re-analyze your syllable count and emphasis pattern to make it even better... :)
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