Today I walked through corridors where the Monarchs of this land
held courts, addressed their subjects, in surroundings cold and bland. The sheer Majesty of those corridors, born of a mason’s tool, he fashioned from those blocks of stone, a Palace where nobles rule. Vast ares of stone paved courtyards, high walls and statues there, shelter ‘neath an ornate roof, arch beamed and carved with care. Our history through the ages was enacted in such a place, some subjects they found favour, whilst others, they lost face. Favour found or favour lost, no matter who they are, the end resul; t was just the same, a plaque and a brass star. For this marks their place in history, a bookmark in this life, a simple star set in the stone, denotes the struggle and the strife, of Kings and Queens, of Noble Lords, High Officers of State, when brought before our Parliament to learn each of their own fate.
Seven centuries of history, lay beneath my feet and as I walkewd with this ghostly crowd, a new Lord took his seat. Black Rod and a Herald led the procession on this day, with style and regal bearing and in a most ceremonial way. The Writ of Summons was presented, a solemn affirmation made, then the new Peer and his ‘supporters’ rejoined the cavalcade. With the ceremony over and the procession out of the way, the Lords turned their attention to the Notices and Orders of the Day. With probing questions uttered, each Lord made known his stand, embryonic laws emerge from this, such laws would rule this land. But only when both Houses of Parliament have agreed and the Royal Assent has been obtained, will each Bill then succeed. I was selected, then invited to bear witness on this day, for this privilege I am indebted to the Noble Lord, Earl Grey.
Loyd David Burt
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/palaces-of-westminster/
