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"burmarsh" poems
Overture for beginners Venus the night herald Calls to the showgirls One by one ~ The evening star Conducts the chorus line Galaxy dancing To Pembury Hill ~ Shy Selena Lifting her petticoats Hints at her coming With ribbons of silverlight ~ Walk with me lover Where Juliet wandered Down starlit byways To the Burmarsh chimes ~ Then maybe in moonlight To the notes of a nocturne Selena and Chopin Will smile on the world.
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Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 6:56 PM UTC
john-lock
Moonlight.
Overture for beginners Venus the night herald Calls to the showgirls One by one ~ The evening star Conducts the chorus line Galaxy dancing To Pembury Hill ~ Shy Selena Lifting her petticoats Hints at her coming With ribbons of silverlight ~ Walk with me lover Where Juliet wandered Down starlit byways To the Burmarsh chimes ~ Then maybe in moonlight To the notes of a nocturne Selena and Chopin Will smile on the world.
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Take my hand We will walk the forgotten lanes Made for iron shod hooves In the footsteps where sandaled feet Of the lost legions followed the eagle standard ~ But I see you grow weary of beauty Of the counterpane fields of green and gold Miss Marple villages, soft in the twilight Then come, down to the Romney Marsh Where time is in tune with your deepest fears ~ We’ll take the old road to the Burmarsh Chimes By the ruined church of St Augustine, silvered by moonlight Where communion wine and the Free Traders Brandy barrels Once rested side by side united under the Lords protection Where the tolling bell called the dead to evensong ~ There, by the east wall of the Lady Chapel Tear washed sentinels lean against the west wind Underneath the wild thyme and harebells Lay the sad bones of the forgotten children Come, this is not the place to linger ~ Safe home under the oak beams of the White Heart Amid farming folk with the smell of the land on them Setting the stage for beery nostalgia Sit here by the warmth of the fireside While I tell you tales of the Night Riders.
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Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 3:28 PM UTC
john-lock
Take my Hand.
Take my hand We will walk the forgotten lanes Made for iron shod hooves In the footsteps where sandaled feet Of the lost legions followed the eagle standard ~ But I see you grow weary of beauty Of the counterpane fields of green and gold Miss Marple villages, soft in the twilight Then come, down to the Romney Marsh Where time is in tune with your deepest fears ~ We’ll take the old road to the Burmarsh Chimes By the ruined church of St Augustine, silvered by moonlight Where communion wine and the Free Traders Brandy barrels Once rested side by side united under the Lords protection Where the tolling bell called the dead to evensong ~ There, by the east wall of the Lady Chapel Tear washed sentinels lean against the west wind Underneath the wild thyme and harebells Lay the sad bones of the forgotten children Come, this is not the place to linger ~ Safe home under the oak beams of the White Heart Amid farming folk with the smell of the land on them Setting the stage for beery nostalgia Sit here by the warmth of the fireside While I tell you tales of the Night Riders.
Continue reading...
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