O Nobile Pile! Could you but speak
What tales you’d tell!
You have no voice however meek.
Not e’en to say that “All is Well”.
You cannot say what hearts you’ve thrilled
What Ladies you preferred
She reigns within each in her time
You give her not a word.
Within your walls she’s sorrow known
Rejoicing at a birth
It takes all these to make a home – –
And weddings filled with mirth.
Her husband she has tried to cheer
When clouds of war hung o’er you
She holds a place that’s hard to fill
Not one that’s always “clover”.
Both Kings and Queens have passed your threshold
Across the sea they came, away
Crown Princes with their Princesses
For you it meant a gala day.
a pioneer woman