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