THROUGH halls of vanished pleasure, <br />And hold of vanished power, <br />And crypt of faith forgotten, <br />A came to Ludlow tower. <br /> <br />A-top of arch and stairway, <br />Of crypt and donjan cell, <br />Of council hall, and chamber, <br />Of wall, and ditch, and well, <br /> <br />High over grated turrets <br />Where clinging ivies run, <br />A thousand scarlet poppies <br />Enticed the rising sun, <br /> <br />Upon the topmost turret, <br />With death and damp below,-- <br />Three hundred years of spoilage,-- <br />The crimson poppies grow. <br /> <br />This hall it was that bred him, <br />These hills that knew him brave, <br />The gentlest English singer <br />That fills an English grave. <br /> <br />How have they heart to blossom <br />So cruel and gay and red, <br />When beauty so hath perished <br />And valour so hath sped? <br /> <br />When knights so fair are rotten, <br />And captains true asleep, <br />And singing lips are dust-stopped <br />Six English earth-feet deep? <br /> <br />When ages old remind me <br />How much hath gone for naught, <br />What wretched ghost remaineth <br />Of all that flesh hath wrought; <br /> <br />Of love and song and warring, <br />Of adventure and play, <br />Of art and comely building, <br />Of faith and form and fray-- <br /> <br />I'll mind the flowers of pleasure, <br />Of short-lived youth and sleep, <br />That drunk the sunny weather <br />A-top of Ludlow keep.<br /><br />Willa Sibert Cather<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poppies-on-ludlow-castle/
