Hall of the Raven King

Hall of the Raven King
…From ‘Songs of Arcadia’

The full moon beams with the light of day,
If day were black and white.
The dancers twirl and glitter,
Their finest clothes are dark and bright.

So soon the weary moon will fade,
Emboldened stars will join the throng,
But softly, whispered tales are told
Of empty skies that have no song.

Where grey waves strike the black rock,
Where stars ne’er shine nor sing,
In the shadow of the New Moon rising
Lies the Hall of the Raven King.

Three crooked spires rise above
The broken stone and mumbling sea.
The wounded walls and twisted gates
Forgotten, slump dejectedly.

No lighthouse stands above the cliffs,
No blaze of warning flares.
There are no ships that ply this coast,
No reason for them sailing there.

Where grey waves strike the black rock,
Where stars ne’er shine nor sing,
In the shadow of the New Moon rising
Lies the Hall of the Raven King.

He listened, as a younger man,
To sea-song, deep with hidden spells;
With wind twined ’round his shoulders,
On a beach of shattered, empty shells.

Uncaring seasons split his soul,
And filled it up with bitter brine;
Left him dry as loveless kisses,
Bleak as the oily, winter tide.

Where grey waves strike the black rock,
Where stars ne’er shine nor sing,
In the shadow of the New Moon rising
Lies the Hall of the Raven King.

KJN 3/2009

 



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