Why does not the bugle sound?
And where
The lookout on the fortress wall,
The sentry at the gate?
Where has he gone, the colonel in his sovereign pride,
The central power upon the hill;
What was his fate?
Why did they desert their posts?
For see,
The brazen sun still vaults the sky,
The blue sea laps the shore.
Why did they leave? The farmer whistles as he hoes.
He whistles where the bugle called
Across the moor.
What sign have they left behind?
The crest
Carved deeply in the crumbling stone?
The lizard on the wall?
What have they left? Their whispers in the dancing breeze,
Who were the rulers on the hill;
Is this then all?
What, pray, were they doing here?
They carved
Their crumbling crest into the stone.
They built their heavy wall.
What did they do? Their guns made whispers in the breeze,
Who were the rulers on the hill
Where lizards crawl.
RAE, 14 March 1975
Why does not the bugle sound?
And where
The lookout on the fortress wall,
The sentry at the gate?
Where has he gone, the colonel in his sovereign pride,
The central power upon the hill;
What was his fate?
Why did they desert their posts?
For see,
The brazen sun still vaults the sky,
The blue sea laps the shore.
Why did they leave? The farmer whistles as he hoes.
He whistles where the bugle called
Across the moor.
What sign have they left behind?
The crest
Carved deeply in the crumbling stone?
The lizard on the wall?
What have they left? Their whispers in the dancing breeze,
Who were the rulers on the hill;
Is this then all?
What, pray, were they doing here?
They carved
Their crumbling crest into the stone.
They built their heavy wall.
What did they do? Their guns made whispers in the breeze,
Who were the rulers on the hill
Where lizards crawl.
RAE, 14 March 1975