Classic Poem

Let the hills talk in Wessex,
in Wessex if they have seen
go riding, go riding
My Lady, my Queen.

" In what guise went she? "
She is both tall and pale,
and she doth ride the Wessex hillside
on a White Horse over the Vale.

The hills are dumb in Wessex
With their grief and mine,
for the Queen is gone into captivity
and we look for a sign.

The Queen has gone into captivity
and the world is very wrong,
for the hands of her sons are weakened
and only slaves are strong.

But hush! in Wessex
(I tell you what I have seen)
like the sun in a blue space suddenly
comes riding forth my Queen.