Watcher From the House of Times

 

Today I walked upon the wall

Hadrian’s Roman one, that is,

While hiking in the north, saw clear

A watcher from the house of times.

 

Out in the early almost-dawn

To catch the best of day

While following in an ancient path

I came across him there

 

I, walking through the mile fort

Where, eagle planted, legions camped

Rome’s ninth, in field array

Two thousand years ago

 

Tall and strong he stood,

The legionary man.

Wet helm pulled low upon his brow

plume stirring in the winter chill

 

peers out intently from the height

now pacing down now striding back

forceful, yet with indecision

impatient waits clear light of day

 

chill knife wind thinly blows

new morning fog hung low

conceals, or in swirling momentary glimpse

reveal, a stock still pagan horde

 

frozen moment’s rigid stance

suspends grey shadows legless in the air

And floating apparition now unnerves

The watcher on the wall

 

As on this very British fell I went

Another hiker walked and watched

This, oilskin clad against the damp,

A modern boot upon his foot

 

As he paced up, came striding back

His face I saw quite clear

That same high Roman nose and brow,

Same clear focused gazing eye

 

Now in the thinning morning mist

Down from the wall, across the dale

My own now searching eyes perceived

A flock of woolly Cheviots

 

"Did I see?" myself, I ask

This shade of times gone past

Perhaps was mere imagining

From mind stuffed full of history?

 

No – I do believe him more

This watcher on the wall

A visitor from the house of times

Whence shadows now and then emerge.