England
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England's beauty lies in small places
Tangled path moss cover gate
There is a rhythm to the ages
Secrets stored in shining lakes
The sword emerges from the water
Merlin conjures Arthur to appear
The path has many turns and tangents
Save the tragic Guinevere
Circle round a newfound friendship
Melting dances woven from above
Shy eyes smile over thin cotton dresses
Inviting young and innocent love
The green man triumphs months of plenty
Fecund soil and glorious birth
The land renewed, the queen resplendent
In this we measure England's worth
Now the colours swell and darken
Passing from hills offered without shame
Urgent need for shock caresses
Before the land is cherub once again
The battle lost, the land lies dying
Cold and hard, no hope remains
The barest thing the old knights call us
To fight their doubts with fires of our ways
Call the light will Arthur save us
Mist blocks out clear sight of the way
Punishment or cold indifference
There is no choice, his people must pay
Guinevere repeats her folly
Condemned to tread that path again
Triumph of blood turned cold with betrayal
Earth lives out that ancient pain