Monday, June 21, 2010


The army guard

The land unraised, defies and bides its time
The fenmark sleeps and no fires blazon there
To hold back Hereward's memories from reeds
That whisper of the passing of the air.

His mother wore her hair, down o'er her horse
- He calls for armies in a corn-crake's cry -
Rebels against Good Edward and with Norse
Estrithson sets his camp upon Ely.
He fails and falls back; into long defeat
Battered by Belars, driven out to lie, bitter
In granaries between the yellowing wheat,
Under the turning tumbrils of the sky.
Impotent now to bring the land to fret
The norman heel, he lies neath William's eye.

A CPi5m in the style of Geoffrey Hill.

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