Camelot

She that was a queen stood here
Where the kestrel hovers.
He was resting by the weir:
He and she were lovers.
Praise and passion in her throat
Breathed above her psalter
Long before King Arthur’s boat
Moved upon the water.

Though she died in Almesbury
White as any lily,
Laid beneath the darkest tree
Winter cannot sully,
All the colour she had wrought
Stayed in her possession.
Time stood still in Camelot
Till her last confession.

Set your foot upon this land.
Come, for time has vanished.
Part the grasses with your hand.
Here, though he was banished,
Never did the grasses cease
Whispering of their pledges
While the blossoms on the trees
Burst along the hedges.