This, as the title suggests, is a poem I am writing on St George. It is as yet untitled and is far from finished. Here is the introductory section. Comments and suggestions are welcome.
In times gone by there used to fly
A standard stern and true
Whose shape above the battlements
Was old when guns were new.
Above green fields and weary stones
And towers did it fly,
Set high by long-forgotten folk
Against an English sky.
Its colouring was stark and clear-
One saw it from afar.
Indeed, one saw it any place,
To wit, where English are.
And sometimes it might flutter aloft
And sometimes it might fall,
Depending whether wind was high
Or there was no wind at all.
On countless tow'rs, in countless halls,
Th'insignia would appear;
On tabards or on tall ships' masts
To strike a foe with fear.
MacKillop-Woods Way Pilgrimage 2018 – Day Seven (22 April) – Narooma to Bodalla via Potato Point - I woke early before dawn on Sunday morning having slept like a log in the big comfortable bed at Marg Latimer’s home. The good food and wine and company (a...
4 hours ago