Tintagel,Tintagel
Tintagel, Tintagel, your heights are still bearing
The psychic remainders of some alchemy,
I stood on you thrilled by the shoreline while staring
Out at the horizon where winds tend to be
Remarkably violent and spend their time tearing
Your ragged peninsula down by the sea.
The Dark Ages vanished and they were succeeded
By Normans who built the great castle on high,
Yet now it's abandoned, a ruin unheeded
Except for the pilgrims who visit like I,
Aware of the magic that Albion needed
And how the spells Merlin performed never die.
I wanted to find you, I wanted to learn all
I could of the legends of King Arthur's Court
And though every storm brews a battle infernal,
When sunsets turn you to a tranquil red vault
Tintagel, Tintagel, then something eternal
Envelopes my soul in celestial thought.
©