Stone Walls in Christchurch

Grey stones remain-no more,
Of that proud and mighty castle on the hill
Which stood long years ago.
The stream which filled its moat
Is but the calm cool home of fishes now,
And boys slide down the hill which men scaled bleeding
Wounded in battle 'gainst the Norman baron and his men.
Lovers and children rest on seats
Near to the walls which sheltered tired defenders,
And ivy grows upon them—round about
are trees and fields and houses,
It is a very home of peace and age-dimned splendours.

—S.S.