I behold the majestic ruins <br /> of a once exalted cathedral <br /> where walked noble knights and just kings. <br />The sound of satin shoes and rustling robes and <br />the weary knight’s armour’s rythmic clattering <br />are replaced by the wind whistling through the cracks <br /> in the stone to which the violets cling. <br /> The crenullated columns cast their <br /> shadows on soft, untrimmed moss. <br /> The gnarly roots and fractilic ferns rare <br /> enhance the arches gothic <br /> under the moon’s pearly air. <br /> Once perfumed with magnificence, <br /> this regal lair is now infused <br /> with a sweet moist earthy fragrance. <br />The oak and birch trees, maple and juniper <br />supplant the resplendent spires and curvy domes. <br />These trees with leaves of filigree are havens <br />for ev’ry robin’s sky-blue eggs and ravens. <br /> Yet the memory of lofty courts <br /> filled with inlay and vivid fabrics <br /> and the present state of lovely nature <br />intermingle to create an enigmatic <br />amaranthine dream. <br /> <br />I was inspired to write this poem when I came upon a picture on www.fromoldbooks.org called 'Plate 53. Remains of the Cloisters of Margam Abbey, Glamorganshire.'<br /><br />Patricia Wulf<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cathedral-cloisters/
