Monthly Archives: July 2014
Steep-sloped earth-walled storm-beaten hill top, Weather has worn you, wars have ravaged Your ancient sanctuary, safe place in anarchy And uncertain times. Sober chieftains Of the Down Dales, their doom unwitting, Ruled on your heights, holding sway over The rolling green; rising and waning As their fathers before. Feast and sacrifice, Year by year since yore, returned to The heroeshall on hill of chalk. Your virgin maidens, from morning dance returning, Their heads crowned and crested beautifully With orchid headdress: awed and shyly To their elders glancing; Your glades of oak, Where maying lovers met early by dawn; Your raised unwrought ring of eldstones Where forest and field folk held mootings, Are all gone, long gone, lost in history – Yesteryear’s unknown. And yet – when wind Blows blustering o’er your battled peak, I hear an unseen hillsong singer; The haunting voice of your vigilant past.