The poetry of Old England...

Old friend you have now gone, the wind took you with the Ravens song, your tears formed the ocean waves, the longboat sped for better days,

Goodbye old friend, I knew you well, until the next time we set sail. ( R.J.Ball )

My heart is where the three rivers meet, the air is still, cool and sweet and I have ancestors beneath my feet,

My heart is with the wild and free, growing deep within every tree, constantly moving through the land, effecting and shaping every grain of sand,

My heart is with the Saxon lord, now hidden from the sunken hoard, guarding a secret never told,

My heart is with the Raven's song, loud true, beautiful and strong. ( R.J.Ball )

 November is a moonlit month,

A cold and rainy affair,

With fallen leaves and skeletal trees,

It can seem like nobody‘s there,

But please remember the golden light,

Now hidden from the our sight,

A luminous, glorious power waiting to return. ( R.J.Ball )