There’s someone right behind me
One can hear their footsteps follow
But I turn around and there’s no-one there,
save fleeting shadows in an ancient hollow
Who trod these steps before me
on this ancient Roman road?
Did Arthur and his knights pass this way
on their way to Camelot, where dreams of hope abode?
So very few, those knights,
So proud, so fierce and bold
How they battled evil
Amid the rain and cold
Footsteps come behind me
Yet again I turn and look.
There’s nothing there to see,
or hear, but the babbling of a brook
Poets:
