Beyond that silence and that still
A brumous mist descends the hill.
Whose eulogy contains the line-
‘All are, in time, to dust confined?’
Abandoned like a rusting plough-
Milton Hall’s a fading memory now.
Although they were to privilege born
Their cross lies shattered on the lawn.
While the bellcote has grown silent now
The sheep, unheeding, kneel and bow…
Down deeper still, beyond the wall
If gravestones could their own tales tell?
The Bells lie there whose son would be
Hero of a great ship lost at sea
That sinking deep beneath the waves
Would cast its shadow on an age…
While with an ever-watchful eye
The moon commands the starlit sky.
A poet may capture with ease of rhyme
The dreams, the follies, of our time.
Two roedeer were seen in Rowbank Wood-
The scaffolding has, now, come down
Churchbells- like passing angels-sound.