Chateau Gaillard

Shattered tower and desolated keep Darken; far below the river shines Under cliffs that round the twilight sweep, Rock--rough headlands on the sky's confines Couch asleep. Silence breathes; the air colours; dewy smell Freshens keener from the grass; a hush Deepens on some distant evening bell. Burning out of heaven the solemn flush Spins a spell: Sharpens every shadowy edge of stone; Notches gaps abrupt; drains pale the light; Blackens gulfs of fosse, where mounds enthrone What were towers. The ruin to soft night Looms alone. Lo, it lives! Now like a terrible thought Seems it. A man's strength, how frail beside Yonder strength! Could hands of flesh have wrought Such a thing? Mere ashes they that cried, They that fought, Where the little poppy spots with red Crumbling bastions; dust of centuries, all Those strong feet that over heaps of dead Leapt, and hands that furious clutched the wall, Breasts that bled. Yet a presence, yet a power is here, In the darkening silence slowly felt, Silence that is naked and is near. Into cloud those battle rages melt; But a fear Strikes from where these pressing stones conspire Toward a purpose past the strength of each, As a man's deeds knit by one desire, As a great verse out of casual speech Forged in fire. Stones no longer, having filled their place! Nay, though tumbled, torn, and cast aside, Touched with glory Time cannot deface: In such wreck, Man, scarred and glorified, Builds his race. Lion--Heart, thou buildest not in vain, Lion--Heart, that in our own blood still Beatest: rent but royal over Seine This the embattled proud child of thy will Shall remain!