Original Work by P. Finer, Form 2B
Stark and clear against the sky,
The ruined castle stood.
No feathered arrows now do fly
Across the English wood.
The battlements in ruins lie,
The walls are tumbled down,
The time for close is drawing nigh,
Soon age will start to frown.
The battle cries no longer sound,
The keep lies silent now,
And only a wooded, leafy mound
Stands, untouched by the plough.
No sound now rings around the walls,
No doors are opened wide,
And as the light of evening falls
The ghost begins to ride.
Original Work by D. Moffat, Form 2B
The moon was shining clear end white.
And the lake was shimmering with a dancing light,
The overhanging willow trees,
Were bowed to the water in the evening breeze,
The rushes by the water's edge,
Seemed precariously peering over an unsafe ledge,
As if to see in the water bright,
An image of themselves this night.
The fishes phosphorescent light
Added to this scene so bright,
A glaze to Nature's wondrous way,
Which lasts from every ray to day.