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Raising
Lyonnesse
~
By
Scilly Isles beyond the waves
Anent
the shattered rock she bides:
Lyonnesse,
her beauty drowned
Her
glory laid aside.
Oh
Lyonnesse, my Lyonnesse
By
ancient seas concealed;
Entranced
as fair Elaine didst lie
By
Astalot revealed.
And
shall we raise thee from the deep?
And
waken thee again?
Should
Lyonnesse be drenched anew
In
the acid rain?
She
dreams of splendour, men and maids,
Bedecked
in gems and cloth of gold:
Lyonnesse,
her spirit quenched,
Her
tales of life untold.
Oh
Lyonnesse, sweet slumbered land,
By
storm and waves undone,
The
Lady of Shallott lies cold:
Thou
and she art one.
And
shall we raise thee from thy spell
Disturb
thy harboured shore?
Should
Lyonnesse be brought to yoke
Compelled
to modern law?
She
knew the tread of sad Iseult
Ill-gained
as Tristram’s bride;
Lyonnesse,
a kingdom made-
Now
sunken in the tide.
Oh,
Lyonnesse, thy bells may toll
In
troubled waves today;
Thy
time is done, thy soul remains
Remember
thee? We may.
Yet-
We
shall not raise thee from thy dream
Nor
rudely bid thee heed
Oh
Lyonnesse, thou’rt better so
Than
woken, but to bleed.
Thou
couldst not stand the gaze of day,
Nor
bear the brazen skies-
Lyonnesse,
bright Lyonnesse
Thou’rt
not for earthly eyes.
Raising Lyonnesse
Building the Bridge of the Air
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