Echoes of Albion

In the heart of Albion, where legends lie,
Beneath the azure of the boundless sky,
A poet wanders, with quill in hand,
Through ancient woods and verdant land

He hears the whispers of the breeze,
And feels the earth beneath his knees,
In every leaf, a tale untold,
In every stream, a story old.

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With words as sharp as Excalibur's blade,
He paints a world where dreams cascade,
Where knights and dragons dance in flight,
Beneath the moon's soft silver light.

Through misty moors and shadowed glen,
He weaves a tapestry of lore again,
Of castles tall and battles fought,
Of love and loss, all dearly bought.

So raise your voice in a rousing cheer,
For the poet who makes Albion's spirit clear,
In British English, his verses flow,
A tribute to the land we know.

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