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