{"id":1672,"date":"2015-06-26T19:14:18","date_gmt":"2015-06-26T22:14:18","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.eayrs.com\/blog\/?p=1672"},"modified":"2015-06-26T19:22:56","modified_gmt":"2015-06-26T22:22:56","slug":"requiem-for-a-king","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.eayrs.com\/blog\/archives\/1672","title":{"rendered":"Requiem for a King"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><em>I wrote this poem when I was twelve years old and just rediscovered it today. I\u2019m posting this unchanged, as a tribute to my twelve-year-old former self. Terribly clich\u00e9d (it seems I was reading Mallory at the time), but there is something about it that lets me connect to the time I wrote it and what I was thinking and reading at the time. So no apologies, what it is, it is.<\/em><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.eayrs.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/06\/morte.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-1675\" src=\"https:\/\/www.eayrs.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/06\/morte.jpg\" alt=\"morte\" width=\"202\" height=\"249\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p><strong>Requiem for a King<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>In the year of eight o\u2019 three<br \/>\nA noble king did cease to be<br \/>\nIn England\u2019s pastures green.<br \/>\nHe had lived a noble life<br \/>\nFull of turmoil, full of strife<br \/>\nBut now was mourned by just his wife<br \/>\nThe noble King Arthur.<\/p>\n<p>A score of years before, or more,<br \/>\nHe had started England\u2019s war<br \/>\nIn England\u2019s pastures green.<br \/>\nBut now he lies upon the sward<br \/>\nWith his hand clenched round his sword<br \/>\nThe sweat and blood from off him poured<br \/>\nThe noble King Arthur.<\/p>\n<p>Several months before, that year,<br \/>\nHe had married Guinevere<br \/>\nIn England\u2019s pastures green.<br \/>\nBut now the girl beside him lay<br \/>\nAt the ending of the day<br \/>\nAs death did take his breath away<br \/>\nThe noble King Arthur.<\/p>\n<p>The very last words that he spake<br \/>\nWere \u2018throw my sword into the lake\u2019<br \/>\nIn England\u2019s pastures green.<br \/>\nExcalibur flashed through the air<br \/>\nIt\u2019s mighty blade dull, hard and bare<br \/>\nA hand shot up and caught it there<br \/>\nFor noble King Arthur.<\/p>\n<p>Then, as the night was drawing on<br \/>\nAnd moonlight on the water shone<br \/>\nIn England\u2019s pastures green.<br \/>\nA barge across the water flew<br \/>\nWith Queen\u2019s inside, the noble few,<br \/>\nAnd up to Arthur\u2019s bed they drew<br \/>\nThe noble King Arthur.<\/p>\n<p>And as the shades of evening fell<br \/>\n\u2018Twas heard the tolling of the bell<br \/>\nIn England\u2019s pastures green.<br \/>\nThe barge across the lake sped on<br \/>\nWith its helm of black-necked swan<br \/>\nAnd then for ever he was gone<br \/>\nThe noble King Arthur.<\/p>\n<p><em>Written at Oakham, 1960<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>I wrote this poem when I was twelve years old and just rediscovered it today. I\u2019m posting this unchanged, as a tribute to my twelve-year-old former self. Terribly clich\u00e9d (it seems I was reading Mallory at the time), but there &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/www.eayrs.com\/blog\/archives\/1672\">Continue reading <span class=\"meta-nav\">&rarr;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[32,28,1,6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1672","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-for-fb","category-poetry","category-uncategorized","category-writings"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.eayrs.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1672","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.eayrs.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.eayrs.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.eayrs.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.eayrs.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1672"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/www.eayrs.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1672\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1677,"href":"https:\/\/www.eayrs.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1672\/revisions\/1677"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.eayrs.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1672"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.eayrs.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1672"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.eayrs.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1672"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}