Saturday, 29 July 2017

Men Gurta

























 

The towering stone on                      
The ancient downs                                        
The pulsing land crowned                                   
With archaic mounds                                         
The song of the stones is loudest here                    
On the biggest hill,                                         
The past feels near.

The Stone of Waiting, standing proud                   
Its giant form below                                                 
The scudding clouds                                  
An old meeting place,                                
A boundary zone                                                                  
In a landscape of many                             
Upright stones.

The vistas of the compass round                                                 
The highest moorland hills                              
To the east, astound                                                       
To the north and west, 
Lies the rocky shore                                            
In the south, Hensbarrow Beacon                                     
Rises to the fore.

Upon these downs where                                    
Old bones lie                                              
Beneath the earth,                              
Beneath the sky                                              
Where legend and lore                                        
Is close to see but continues                                    
To remain a mystery.

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