Holding Back the Tide

MAGPIE TALES

http://magpietales.blogspot.com/2011/08/mag-78.html

supplied the illustration

HOLDING BACK THE TIDE

With paint and rollers, sweat and strain

We try to make things good again.

When time and usage make their mark

We must ignite the initial spark....

The time when our house was fresh and new

And our refurbishing plans were few.

Our home was viewed with complacent pride,

And we were neatly tucked inside.

But rust and mould and flaking paint

Were all at work, though their mark was faint.

A touch-up job just now and again

Could turn the losses into gain.

A new tile here, a new tap there

Could give the place a well-kept air.

But, as the years creep on and on,

We find pristineness has up and gone.

Finally, even the rollers die;

They give up the ghost, refuse to try.

We find we cannot run away

From the powering tide known as Decay.

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THE TREASURE OF SRODA SLASKA!

Blanche of Valois what were you like

In the days when you wore this crown?

Were you tall or were you short

And were your eyes blue or brown?

Were you happy to be a Queen

Or were your problems weighty?

Did you die from the dreadful plague

Or live till you were eighty?

Your crown was dug-up in recent times

With other artifacts

In the town of Sroda Slaska

But we don't know many facts.

We believe the Emperor Charles the Fourth

Pawned the treasure to pay his debts,

But then the plague came to Poland,

So that's as close as it gets.

I imagine your coronation, Blanche.

Was the crown heavy on your head?

Did you look at Charles adoringly

Or with a look of dread?

The crown is just dead metal now,

Beautiful though it is.

But it was warmed by your human warmth

The day you became his.

You were as living as I am, Blanche,

So, in that, we are both the same.

But you once wore the ermine

And trod the paths of fame.

Blanche of Valois what were you like

In the days when you wore this crown?

Were you tall or were you short

And were your eyes blue or brown?

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