Across The Wold Poem by Joyce Hemsley

Across The Wold



Days are cold
and nature grows old
erasing Robin Hood fantasies.
But over the wold
the country doth hold
a superstore of memories.
Mysteries beyond compare,
for the merry-merry men
were so debonair...
and stories have sold
for coinage of gold to
lovers of history everywhere.

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Joyce Hemsley

Joyce Hemsley

Portsmouth England
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