We live in green tradition of a past that never was, a legend of a dream when we thought ourselves to be all powerful.


When Bells Ring

When bells ring through the valley trees
Peeling evening birdcall
Harmonize and sing
Songs in the notes fall

On English hearts of glory
Written carefully on stone
That tells another story
Of life and brittle bone

Here is the home of old
Where empire spread its sails
With tales of valour told
Where honour never fails

To fly the soul of power
Loose among the trees
With rooks from greystone tower
That peck the story free

The green and homely land
Is legend from the past
And only now we understand
The tale would never last




Poetry by Adrian Wood
Read 517 times
Written on 2012-03-29 at 00:49

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