I sought the ancient realms of kings,
Their temples, tombs, and such like things.
To walk high halls where kings once strode,
Stand on wide walls from whence kings rode
Through gilded gates of great renown
Perhaps to seize anotherís crown,
Gain gold or land, dare grow such fame,
Men not yet born would pray their name.
Wish eyes to see their battles rage,
Ears hear the words of seer and sage.
To gaze on silent seas nearby,
View sacred misted mountains high.
And when I found these sites of old,
Built by kings, strong, proud and bold,
Where towers rose to break the sky,
Ramparts, stood stout, begged verse and sigh
Saw no grandeur, no power vast,
But wretched ruins from quiet past.
Time humbled stones, sentinels done,
Still yield to none, save wind, save sun.
I conjure up this age of yore,
When rulersí rule brought fear and awe.
Works to pass God in His Glory.
The works are gone; they left but story.