Monday, 8 January 2018

The Castle Old and Grey

    It's the first poetry post of 2018 and I'm featuring Scottish, 19th century poet, Alexander Anderson. I particularly loved this poem of his because I am totally fascinated by old buildings, especially castles. His words I can identify with, because when I too walk into an old castle I think of who walked before me in the corridors and upon the stairs in the past. It wouldn't just be servants, but kings and queens as well. Every inch of the building's floors and walls, all have a story to tell. If they could only speak.

The Castle Old and Grey

I never see a castle
That is gaunt and grey and grim
But my thoughts at once go backward
To the past so misty and dim

To the time when tower and turret
Kept watch far over the vale
And along the sounding draw-bridge
Rode knights in their suits of mail

I see the sunshine glancing
On helmet, pennon and spear
And hear from the depth of the forest 
A bugle calling clear

I fill the hall with visions
Of ladies rich in their bloom
And stately knights in armour
And waving with feather and plume

If  I climb the broken stairway
Where the stone is smooth and fine
I hear a rustle and a whisper
And footsteps in front of mine

Whisper of youth and maiden
As they met in the long ago
His deep and strong and manly
Hers tender and sweet and low

But maiden and youth have vanished
Away from the scene and the light 
Gone, too, the high-born lady
And the plumed and armoured knight

Only the grey old castle
Of crumbling stone and lime
Still stands to speak of the ages
And the iron footsteps of time

                                                                                         Alexander Anderson 1845-1909

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