Where once the light from her weary stones has been thrown
A stand of holly twists have flourished and grown
Wild with abandon, about the oaks now aloof
Branches probing, where once a grey roof
Stone-vaulted over the ageing walls towered
Before they 'neath the stygian cowered
The birches in their checked stealth have made
Of the hall ruins a meeting glade

Bathing, greening the stones where once
Yellow torchlight danced in every sconce
The ivy, rambling, has woven a coat
Over the night stairs crumbling near the moat
Where fireside bards have played, and too their rest
Chorus the birdsongs from every nest
Alas now, no earthly whispers grace
This nature reclaimed, silent, ponderous place

Coda
The rook-echoing castle, gaunt
Has of the woodland become a haunt