Westminster Abbey is a Nation's Past
A living saga put on great display
A deep commitment for those great proud souls
That made a nation's past in every way
Kings, queens, poets scientists, common folks
Lie side by side, honored from day to day
Amazed, I walked among those living dead
Our past forloned, our heroes in dismay

The tourist guide asked me to step aside
My foot was resting on Charles Dicken's head
I felt ashamed and sorry for his fate
But I found not one drop of tears to shed
Kings, queens, poets and greatest men of arts
Had their wits burried and their fine minds hid
Treaded upon by Westminster Abbey's crowds
Most, like me, never knew on what they tread

Farther, I saw a grave for sister queens
Whom love did split, but death did them unite
From earth to earth they went, with no return
No more chance for their love or for their fight
As women, they loved, hated and then died
Crowns on their heads were just a fading sight
Had they known Fate would gather them in one
Cold grave, they wouldn't have sought wealth or might

John Milton's Paradise Lost or Regained
Couldn't avert his fate, I passed his grave
He ran away from plague, let others die!
But plague ran after him, never to save
How big men may be in their wit or art
But how little they score to be called brave!
Side by side to his Paradise Regained
Guides point out how much he had of a nerve

At London tower my wits betrayed me
Dazzled by worlds of diamonds and gems
Dazzled by days of hate and treason too
From which each puzzling Tower tale stems
The Traitors' Gate gives witness to those days
When death moans mixed so sadly with Thames hems
The wealth of nations conqured by the Brits
Was gathered here and guarded in deep dens

Ann of the Thousand Days here walked to death
With too stubborn and proud a head to keep
The swordman summoned to bring down her head
Thrice failed, while her sweet eyes pierced him so deep
Others had their heads axed, death in disgrace!
But Anne in death, as in life, was never cheap
A graceful head like hers, as Henry thought,
Only a swordman must put it to sleep

I stood with awe at her beheading spot
Her grace and wit reminded me of you
Your lovely face, sweet lips and flying hair
Are things you have, and things Anne had them too
Your proud and stubborn head is much like hers
But Henry did what I shall never do
I cherished all your pros and all your cons
For I love you AS YOU, all else taboo.