The poem is not solely or entirely about Robin and Marian, it represents the passing of a relationship, a changing of status, a shifting of the heart’s season – like an autumn day, as trees are releasing their leaves to be carried off by the wind .. a reconciliation of hope at the pearly gates of an eternally lost love ..
In Little Dunmow Church
In Little Dunmow Church
Weeds grow in the paving
But, deep within the vaults
Where true hearts are never betrayed
It is there sweet Maid Marian lays waiting
Yet, a beauty in her tower
A gilded cage of her design
A passionless tomb should
Pride and vanity win out.
The roguish Robin
Battles truth with a fine art
His arrows are but blunted words
The fool who struggles searches brambles
The point is buried deep within his heart
Weeds grow in the paving
But, deep within the vaults
Where true hearts are never betrayed
It is there sweet Maid Marian lays waiting
Yet, a beauty in her tower
A gilded cage of her design
A passionless tomb should
Pride and vanity win out.
The roguish Robin
Battles truth with a fine art
His arrows are but blunted words
The fool who struggles searches brambles
The point is buried deep within his heart
Hiding low in the greenbrier
His endless rage a tragedy
Quelled only by love’s desire.
For what purpose serve a rose
If freedom becomes her prison
Spoken words her love betraying?
A sacred peaceful place
Wrapped in protective thorns
A romantic heart that is still aching
All brave souls her cries do tempt
His sorrow from time not exempt
A crusader in this lover’s foolish endeavour
Our valiant squire
Sheds his noble blood
That today might last forever.
In Little Dunmow Church
Under foundation stones
Beneath the legend of history
A hush is on the gathering congregation
A wilting faded feathered plume
Plucked from the wing of an angel
Droops in faded glory over tainted ruby petals
Sweet wine upon her lips
Softly whispered words speak
Time’s last hopeful breath releases a sigh
Of life together in eternal perfect grace
There within imagination
I’ll be your love someday.
Under foundation stones
Beneath the legend of history
A hush is on the gathering congregation
A wilting faded feathered plume
Plucked from the wing of an angel
Droops in faded glory over tainted ruby petals
Sweet wine upon her lips
Softly whispered words speak
Time’s last hopeful breath releases a sigh
Of life together in eternal perfect grace
There within imagination
I’ll be your love someday.
* * *