THE FOLLY
It might well be a fancy flight
a seemly sight
to pierce the night
The ruin stands by planned design
stately in its verdant dell
beside the lake
a tableau there
no history to tell
Reflections guaranteed to please
float beside its stones
imaging false contrast
in the water’s mirror
a mirage of a potent past
To build a ruin seems absurd
why would you do it
the thought occurred
Perhaps to glory in the past
show time has passed
and nought can last
But as I wander within its wall
dark and damp
and weather worn
stained in moss
and ivy clad
I feel that here
real history lies
a tale so sad
a mystery
I do recall how
in its recent age
it yet was young
was burnished bright
both stone and tiles
a comely sight
To see an abbey in its prime
no sort of crime
merely a jest with time
Fanciful, a fantasy,
undoubtedly a fallacy
yet
reflection of a legacy
portrayal of a history
Roland's Ragbag 