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Grahame Jun 2014
“My Lady! My Lady! Arise from your bower,
    I’d show you something, come down from your tower!”
The maid into the Lady’s chamber goes,
    she is intent on telling her news.

“My handmaid, my handmaid, what’s all the row?
    Don’t you know I’ve been asleep until now?
I am in my bed, in nightclothes I’m dressed,
    so please impart to me, that which you feel pressed.”

“My Lady! My Lady! Please get out of bed!
    it needs to be shown you, it can’t just be said.
In your private garden is something to see,
    you wouldn’t believe it if you heard it from me.”

The Lady arises, and in her clothes dight,
    descends from the tower in the still of the night.
“Hurry, please hurry,” the handmaiden said,
    “lest what I would show you has already fled.”

They reach the tower’s base, both breathing hard,
    go out of the tower, and into the yard
That they walk across, right up to the gate,
    which the Lady unlocks, though the hour is late.

This garden is private, the demesne of the Lady,
    hedged and bowered, everywhere shady.
With windy gravel paths, carefully laid,
    and only attended by the Lady and maid.

This is her refuge, her own privy lair,
    where she’d repair, far from the care
Of running the castle, looking after the keep,
    which often oppressed her, until she could weep.

Her husband, the Lord, is oft-times away,
    in ‘The Field of Mars’, in the thick of the fray,
Leaving the Lady in the castle alone,
    who, for a pastime’s made the garden her own.

She lovingly tends the plants and the trees,
    which were chosen to tempt birds, butterflies and bees.
And, by selecting ones with strong scent,
    she could know, by smelling, at night where she went.

She now knows this garden like the back of her hand,
    and loves to walk through it, or simply to stand
Admiring the vistas, or taking the air,
    now, lead by the maid, she follows to where
A unicorn lies, wounded with a spear,
    stretched out in an arbour, showing no fear.

The Lady and maid, now hand-in-hand
    slowly approach, and before it do stand.
“My Lady, my Lady, now do you see why
    to observe it yourself I have brought you nigh?
If I’d said, in your garden was a unicorn,
    I fear you would have treated my words with scorn.”

“My handmaid, my handmaid, yes, you’ve done right,
    to bring me here, to show me this sight.
And now, we must help with this poor creature’s plight.
    We’ll pull out the spear, I hope that’ll be right.”

“Return to the castle and fetch water hot,
    and cloths to clean, and what simples we’ve got,
And needle and thread to mend this wound.
    Hurry! Go now! Don’t just stound!”

Back to the castle the maid does hurry,
    while, for the Lady, she does worry.
They’ve neither seen such a creature before,
    and know not if a grudge it bore.

Slowly the Lady approaches the beast,
    cinching her kirtle around her waist.
By its side on the ground she kneels,
    and slowly reaching out, she feels
The unicorn’s flank, to try to decide
    how far the spear has pierced its side,
While the unicorn, with lugubrious eyes,
    gazes at her face as still it lies.

Soon the maid returns with the gear,
    which she lays on the ground, conveniently near
To where the Lady is stroking the creature,
    staring in wonder at each feature.

Two brown eyes, limpid and large,
    a spiralling horn crowns its visage,
Muzzle and feet, all black as jet,
    hide as white as milk, unset.

Ears pricked up, alert and keen,
    tail and mane both long and sheyne.
They know not how long there it has lain,
    with open mouth, panting in pain.

The maid hands the Lady a dampened cloth,
    which she uses to mop up the blood, then doth
Grasp the shaft of the piercing spear,
    and with one pull, draws it clear.

The unicorn gives just one start,
    then lies there, still, although alert.
From the wound comes forth a little blood,
    which the Lady staunches as best she could.

The Lady does the wound clean and dress,
    and stitches the edges, neat as a seamstress.
She wipes the unicorn’s fevered brow,
    then she and the maid wonder what to do now.

The sun’s rays over the garden wall creep,
    So the arbour, still in shadow deep
Slowly brightens up, and then
    the beams light up the unicorn, when
A flash of light blinds their eyes,
    and when they can see, to their surprise,
At the place where lay the unicorn
    there’s now a girl lying, looking forlorn.

Amazed, the Lady and handmaid stare
    at the girl, with a stitched wound, lying there.
Seeing her naked, exposed to their sight,
    they cover her form with a length of samite.

The sun does slowly the arbour warm,
    and they think she’ll now be safe from harm,
Then gradually, she opens her eyes,
    looks at them, and then she cries.

Her whole body with her sorrow shakes,
    the arbour echoes with the sobs she makes,
She appears so fragile and delicate,
    and seems to be inconsolate.

The Lady, sitting by the girl’s side,
    is concerned that the wound might open wide.
So violent is the girl’s paroxysm,
    that she fears it might cause the suture to schism.

So taking the young girl in her arms,
    she cuddles her closely, to soothe her alarms,
And with gentle rocking to and fro,
    the girl, exhausted, to sleep does go.

Later, the Lady feels the girl’s hot,
    and realises she a fever has got.
From the simples she makes a febrifuge,
    which she administers in the arbour refuge.

The sun is almost overhead,
    so fleetingly the time has sped.
The arbour now is cool with shade,
    while the Lady continues administering aid.

The samite cloth is soaking wet,
    so some of the Lady’s clothes does the maid get.
Also fresh water, because she does think
    the girl might like a cooling drink.

She sees the girl is sitting up,
    so offers her water in a cup,
And then offers her a silken gown,
    though wonders if she can dress on her own.

The Lady asks, “Can you put this dress on?”
    Weakly, the girls says, “I’ll try anon.”
Although, when she tries, she cannot stand,
    so the maid offers to give her a hand.

With the help of the Lady and the maid,
    in the dress, the girl is arrayed.
And then she says, still seeming dismayed,
    “Thank you for your help, I’ve been so afraid.
And if you’ll continue sitting near,
    I’ll discover to you just why I am here.”

“My stepmother did me cruelly treat,
    though when with my father, she seemed so sweet,
And because his love, he between us divided,
    to separate us, she then decided”

“She semblanced gaity by day,
    while always looking for a way
To make me seem as a fool, or worse,
    and to appear in all things as perverse.”

“At night she magic studiéd,
    while my father, drugged, lay asleep in bed.
I tried to tell him of her deceit,
    though he always maintained she would not cheat.”

“Eventually, she found a way
    of letting me stay a fille by day
While becoming a unicorn filly at night.
    Against her magic I could not fight.”

“I knew it would break my father’s heart
    to discover his wife had used black art,
And so I thought it a kinder way
    to pretend to go on holiday.”

“I forged a letter from a friend
    inviting me to go and spend
A few weeks visiting her home,
    and took the chance to distantly roam.
And that is why I happened to come
    into these woods, near your home.”

“Because I’m a unicorn at night,
    I live in the woods, like an eremite.
I try to keep to my cave by day.
    I have found this is the best way.”

“As a lady in the wood,
    it’s difficult to find any food.
My clothes are ragged and all torn,
    I’m better off as a unicorn.”

“As a unicorn, I’m able to eat.
    There’s grass all around, and shoots so sweet.
There are ponds and streams where I can drink,
    and this is my best chance I think.”

“I left my cave early last night,
    however, there was still some light.
The sun had only just then set,
    and I, some grass, was eager to eat.”

“It was then I did realise
    I wasn’t alone. To my surprise
A band of hunters, going home,
    by chance through your woods did come.”

“They, straightway, their horns did sound,
    and then let slip their pack of hounds.
I desperately fled away,
    and from my cave was forced to stray.”

“I managed, in front of the pack, to keep,
    meanwhile, my strength, did slowly seep.
On reaching a river that did rapidly flow,
    I desperately leapt it, and over did go.”

“Just as I landed on the further bank,
    I felt a sharp pain in my flank.
A huntsman had chanced a spear to throw;
    I thought I’d been given a mortal blow.
Because the hounds couldn’t the river cross,
    they had to reckon me as a loss.”

“I carried on, full of fear,
    until, to the castle wall I came near.
Then seeing a garden gate open wide,
    I managed, painfully, to struggle inside.”

“I staggered into this arbour deep,
    hoping it would me safely keep.
Then, passing close by, walked your maid,
    and I made a noise though I was afraid.”

“I didn’t want to die alone,
    so I made a sound before she was gone.
I only wanted someone to be there,
    I didn’t expect to receive any care.”

“Your maid came in, quite unafraid,
    and saw me, as on the ground I laid.
And from her eye fell down a tear,
    so then I knew I’d naught to fear.”

“I could now die in company,
    except your handmaid said to me,
‘You stay there, some help I’ll get,
    I will not let you die just yet.’”

“So she brought you, and you helped me,
    and for that I’ll always grateful be.
And now, if you’ll kindly open that door,
    I’ll return to my cave and you’ll see me no more.”

The Lady and her maid said, “No!”
    adding, “from here we shall not let you go.
You have still got a crippling wound
    and for it to mend it needs to be bound.”

“My maid can fetch some serving men.
    They’ll carry you to my chamber, and then
We can give to you the care you need.
    With this plan I hope you’ll concede.”

The girl said, “Nay, this I must gainsay,
    I really must now go away.
How do you think you’ll cope with the sight
    of a unicorn in your bedroom at night?”

The Lady and handmaid thought about this.
    Then the Lady said, “I wis!
My old nursemaid lives near the wood.
    We’ll get you to her, I know we could.”

“She has a cottage and a little land,
    a stable and outbuildings round it stand.
For love of me she’ll look after you,
    I think that is the best thing to do.”

“My handmaid, fetch some serving men,
    and ask them to bring my litter, and then
They can carry the girl to my old nursemaid.
    You’ll be safe there, look not afraid.”

The handmaid goes to find some men,
    while the girl and Lady stay snug in their den.
The girl tells the Lady about her life,
    and the struggle to cope with the constant strife
Which arose from the stepmother treating her ill,
    while her father seemed totally bent to her will.

The maid returns with the men and the litter
    and though the girl said she does feel fitter,
They place her on it, and she’s then transported
    carefully to the nurse’s home. All is sorted.

To alert the nurse, the maid goes on ahead,
    and the nurse listens carefully to what is said.
She quickly makes a spare room ready
    to look after the girl, who is so needy.

The girl is gently placed on a cot,
    while the nursemaid, making some water hot,
Gives the girl a sleeping potion,
    and covers the sutured wound with a lotion.

She binds the wound with cloth that’s clean,
    then asks the Lady what it does mean.
The Lady asks her nurse, so dear,
    to keep it secret, which the nurse does swear.

The nurse then listens, quite bemused,
    how the wounded girl’s been so badly used.
And the outcome, really tragic,
    of the stepmother’s evil use of magic.

The nurse says that of course the girl may stay,
    and the garden’s enclosed, so she will not stray
At night, when become a unicorn,
    so she should be quite safe there alone.
And, furthermore, while the girl is there,
    she’ll try to find a way to save her.

The Lady and maid walk back to the tower,
    and start climbing the stairs to the Lady’s bower.
The Lady asks the maid about the gate,
    if she knows why it had been open so late.

The handmaid said, “I must confess,
    I knew the gate was open, yes.
Oh please try not to be angry with me,
    I had unlocked it with my key.”

“Why were you out, my maid, at night?
    Why couldn’t your business wait until light?”

“My Lady, I have made a match,
    a soldier who’s in your night-watch.
His duty’s at night, he sleeps by day,
    so I have managed to find a way
To see him sometimes, if I can,
    Together, we have made a plan.”

“Although he’s always on duty late,
    he’s occasionally stationed by the gate
Of this garden, near the bower,
    and then he lets me know the hour.”

“When he’s there, I use my key,
    to enter the garden secretly.
I go through it, to the gate,
    then open it, for some time with my mate.”

“So I suppose, when late last night,
    I had opened the gate for a sight
Of my leman, I must have forgotten to
    close it tight when to him I did go.”

“Then, later on, when going home
    through the garden, I heard a moan.
And tryi
Jenny Gordon Aug 2017
I don't know what sprouted this mischief, the first 2 lines teased.



(sonnet #MCMLXVIII)


I'll have me fun in solitude as where
No supercilious frown may cast a pall
Upon my gaity, if't must be.  You all,
Who sniff at silliness, can with an air
Of sensible hauteur drink your despair
In prim tea cups, but as for me, grey's shawl
Cast off as t'were, for brief fun, why sip gall
If laughter tickles sans grim reason's glare?
Its in my blood, I think they said, that sense
Of jolly merriment a thread which'd run
From old to young 'mongst relatives, though whence
It came I can't quite guess.  And when 'tis done
I'll sit with you and be too glum, pretense
Of better ways a front.  Don't you have fun??

10Feb13d
Yes, yes, Maggie at least will remember this.  And I think turning forty altered that since I unconsciously figured it was the new twenties, was that?  I have this penchant for fun, kick me.  If you don't...well, you know.
Katy Souse Dec 2016
Another great event in Windermere,
Really has improved the atmosphere,
Beer tents in  the main road
Food and trinkets amongst the load,

People lining the street, eating
Drinking and enjoying the fun,
All this jolification in the absence of the sun
The moon and the stars being light

The delicious smell of food
Brought more gaity to the public mood,
Happy to be out and enjoying,
The mulled wine with food.
Katy Souse Oct 2017
Another  great  event in  Windermere,
Has  improved  the  atmosphere,
Beer  tents  in  the  main  road,
Food  and  trinkets  amongst  the  load,

The  moon  and  stars  gave  light,
People  lining  the  street  eating,
Drinking  and  having  fun,
All  this  jolification  and  absence  of  the  sun.

The  delicious  smell  of  food
Brought  more  gaity  to  the  mood,
Happy  to  be  out  and  enjoying,
The  mulled  wine  with  food.
(originally composed approximately a half
dozen plus years since this revision now,
September 13th 2018 ~ 12:48 ante meridiem,
which missive, I came across scrolling down
volatile Memory Lane.)

As my recent blank day of birth
passed by unevent
     fully for this Earth
ling (one week ago this Friday,
     with another love handle
     round my abdominal girth
nostalgia and reminiscence
     for childhood (now...

     razed from sprawling roof
     home and hearth
days of yore
     (in modest mansion
     memorialized with sentimental mirth
dwelling only situated
     in mind's eye
     of this author's reduced

     to fading words-worth...
324 Level road
     Collegeville, Pennsylvania abode
gone with the wind
     faint feeble foray
     attempted with poetic code  
spurred this dim
     ming reflection soon...

     near to come decades
     will totally erode
reminiscence whar flowed
nebulously gauzy, fuzzy,
     and blurry cerebral blot, asper
     a Harris family emotional
     and spiritual sanctuary,
     (and mecca), that once glowed

with plenti good crackling cheer,
     a household load
did with cavorting cameraderie,
     and social IP
     (inter personal) node
where conviviality, gaity,
     levity, et cetera slowed
time to standstill, that irretrievable,

     where froggy all toad
went a court'n
     on golden fish pond...
not quite storybook
     past zipped faster
     with each subsequent year
seems to fly at instagram,
     snapchat, and shutterfly vear

really speed of light,
hence I decided to air
sentimental well a wear
how such compressed images
     a veritable splotch tear
drop shaped (pardon me
     asthma myopic eyes
     wax nostalgic, viz moisten stare

into metaphorical crucible where
Boyce and Harriet (the
     latter deceased) both did rear
myself and deux
     darling sisters (a prayer
could deliver,
     no greater loving siblings –
     all three of us near

approximately close in age, ah mere...
ah such thoughts
     doth wince the psyche
     of this frankly earnest,
     modest smart Alick
     of me (just another brick)
now this blurb on
     many a virtual wall

     with just a mouse click
away for any to read,
     and comment with sleight flick
of wrist if the mood
     evokes any reaction.

— The End —