the antlers of the stag
Sit high on a wall
Embedded in a wooden shield

The trophy of a forgotten battle
A great feat of courage
In long years past

The wood of the shield
Now rotten and faded
And the antlers porous and brittle

Time has not treated the trophy well
Nor has the memory
Of the men that sit below it

For none could now say
As they sit by the fires
That they knew the man

Who brought the great stag to its knees