Wednesday, 5 September 2007

St George poem Chapter 1- Part 3

Sure enough, this mudbrick hut
Bedraped with thatch and tar
For generations now had been
The place where chieftains are.

The soldier was expected,
For a man stood by the door.
Authority stood on his brow
But stiffness in his jaw.

His robes were wound about him
In shades of brown and cream;
With stony stare and piercing eye
A statue did he seem.

A beard of black and tousled hair
Clung furiously to his face;
The soldier stood, saluted him,
Then bowed with Roman grace.

A very contrast did they seem
To the folk who gathered round-
Th'imperial armed with soldiers' gear,
The village elder bowed with years-
Never had such a sight appeared
Within this little town.

At last the village elder spoke,
"Good sir, you've travelled far.
We are simple people here,
But we will welcome without fear
An honest traveller."

"You need not fear me, noble chief,
For it is peace I bring-
The peace of purpled emperors
And th'eagle on the wing;
A peace that reaches far and wide,
That roams o'er land and sea;
The peace that rules an empire
Is what I bring to thee."

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