Musings From An Unfinished Fort
Fort Crown Point sits on the big lake
that’s long been called Champlain,
its broad earthen walls left open,
thrown up, but built in vain.
Its roofless barracks give no warmth,
just gutsy shells of stone,
unlike its more famous neighbors
no story here was known.
Ticonderoga, near the south,
battered by history...
and Saint Frederic, just steps away
still got a chance to be…
But Crown Point never was a fort,
never besieged or wrecked
before that old war passed them by,
and redcoats took Quebec.
It makes it strange to see it now,
unfinished, yet preserved,
a monument to a place where
no great glory was earned,
no battle raged, no people died,
no purpose did it get,
like a life with great potential
cut short by early death…
Can that apply to a building
if in serves not its task?
But then, it was designed for war…
maybe there’s good in that.
Yet still I get a forlorn sense
on seeing it because
I’d hate to be remembered for
something I never was…
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