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Golden Horn
Golden Horn

Where a king and soldiers once rested,
encamped overnight on this high-hillock rising
gathering their sleep on a pine forest floor

A sentry for miles to see
across tree tops and high hedged lanes
Granting a staying place sound
for a resting army obvious ground

The eve of battle, nerves fraught
Drinking from a golden cup
should there be victory won –
Forever more the ghosts shall hang
atop trees to Lewes town

Earth and Scots Pine a plenty,
amongst flint and chalk,
these surrounding furrows ploughed
for centuries, reserved and sound

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2023 Mark Brumell