Old Priest’s Parlour…


Where silver trees have bent their bough

O’er sleepy village streets, we go

to solve the riddle of the stones

A scattered presence in a row.


To nourish soul and body’s need-

A place where ancient bards ovate,

A haunted landscape sows the seed

For seeker and initiate.


A stone that moves, a mount aligned,

And after Glaston’s tower named…

And Bronte’s heroine maligned

Associate of pastor’s fame…


3 thoughts on “Old Priest’s Parlour…

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