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NOVEMBER IN CAMELOT
Ellin Anderson
No singing
harp can heal our grief:
There is no Bard without a Chief,
Without a Chief, there is no Land,
No sword, without his wielding hand.
The sun shone through his radiant face,
His eyes were heaven's starry field;
The wind alone could match his grace!
And now, the realm of stars shall yield
No rain beyond the tears we cried:
The land has withered since he died.
© 2011 by Ellin Anderson. All rights
reserved.
No part of this work may be copied or used in any way
without written permission from the author. |
