Old Sarum

Above us rise the fragile walls of stone
Which once were privy to the royal speech
Of ancient kings and mythic knights, unknown,
Which history has lost the will to teach.

Within the granite walls of high repute,
Such warriors of noble blood were met
Before the roaring hearth to tell dispute
Of wars now known, which then were worries, yet.

The majesty of proud and ancient halls
This day is pilfered to the bare remains
And lore the stones once echoed pass recall,
Though, still, the stone an echo faint retains.

Here, down below the height of level ground
We stand amidst the bishop’s treasury
Of stone and rock which heaven’s light has found
Since guarding roof betrayed the rectory.

That shield, blocking sun, now torn away,
Once-captived windows recreate the roof
And open up the heart of earth to day
To welcome growth where gold once piled, aloof.

The clouds and winds and every tree and beast
Now form what wealth is viewed in ancient cell.
In brokenness, and at its very least,
The treasury its greatest riches held.