Robes Of Scarlett Poem by Jerome Brooke

Lost, the city stood near the sandy bar,
Circled by walls of stone.
Towers stabbed at the bright, fleeing stars;
Round the deserted keep, alone.

Bastion of lost empire, strong and bold,
With towers, standing tall.
Our Queen, Noble Lady, in her hall of gold,
Lead them all.

Brave queen of horse, Commander of Sail,
Stand against the mute horde.
Truth and love, bronze helmet and iron mail,
Weep for your fallen Lord.