The Castle
I looked upon a portrait, a picture of towering walls,
A landscape of weather stones guarding the crumbling halls
I detected incense of nectar I felt the breezy air,
and looked at the dark waters as I stood there.
My eyes gazed on a window, a little light in flame, it
struggled to quench the darkness to help the moon’s ancient raign.
Below the haunted towers the wondering river flowed, rippling
among the rocks and through the distant folds.
The strange beauty enchanted me as I gazed on the scene,
A castle rich in the spoils of time yet, somehow so serene.
Does the haunting castle on the river, wither, from shame it hides,
or stand as a shrine to the brave, with gallantry and pride?
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