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