Great Halls and Troubled Times

In throne room grand there stands a page,

In summ’ring youth, and fair of face,

Before his liege lord’s wavering hand 

That now holds sway o’er ancient land.

This steward old has grown, and frail

His mind and body near the vale

Of shadow, not alone of death,

But reason dim, and hope bereft.

In deepening darkness, near the throne,

The page begins, in solemn tones,

A song his people used to sing

In meager times of suffering.

To his young mind, the lay suits ill

The grandeur of the hall, now still;

But simplest words can oft be wise,

And stir to life the dullest eyes.