Yes, we must journey to Springfield Castle
Where Time, the great despoiler, interleaves,
Where today may sample yesterday
In search of morrow that truly cleaves.
The steadfast Norman Tower is reclaimed,
Its battlements speak loudly of siege.
Here is Fitzgerald of stalwart faith
With brave Bard as a fitting liege.
The Bard chants a chronicle of passing,
Of invaders who menace from the East.
They cross the impatient sea like Tristan
In search of booty, or a bride at least.
Isolde, Tristan battle with passion.
Each bristles with the rightness of might.
Faith and language become a patchwork
As kindred Fitzmaurice gains the site.
All are descendants of Geraldines,
Offshoots, relationships that bleed.
Georgian wing perfects the house’s square.
Each archway recounts another deed.
The questing Deane and the Last Lass elope
So that lineage might be hyphened forth.
A continent offers assistance—
The cherished South in service of North.
The mansion wing torched in the turmoil
Must be rebuilt for a family’s sake.
A country is birthed out of ashes.
Every site, an ongoing stake.
Wilde may be this visitor’s fancy.
Words are foxes that mislead the chase.
Our journey must end in this Castle
Ever flourishing with pride of place.
