A Castle

O see it there rising,
Going up...O so high.
T'is the spires of a castle,
To gladden my eye.

Stones form into turrets,
That reach on the hill.
Stones stretching upward,
So silent and still.

Thick growths of trees,
All nestled around.
and the moat-pond encircling,
Coming up from the ground.

So long it has stood,
With its cruel remains.
The soldier is gone,
And his battlement stains.

Left to generations,
From years that have been.
From the conquests of powers,
And the riches of men.


E.P. 1908 - 1989