Sentinel

for Richard Hamer, tutor in Anglo-Saxon

What is this mass of light? From where is it sprung?
For more than a hundred half-years, on and on,
he has watched over the treasure-hoard of an old tongue.

In its yellow glow he has prowled about, coiled and clung
to a heap of old coins – to mutter, ever and anon,
What is this mass of light? From where is it sprung?

To cherish the craft of it – goblets and rings in among –
to note the layout – the shifts that have come and gone –
he has stood over the treasure-hoard of an old tongue.

Is it a trace that he hears of a song that is sung
elsewhere? Has not another rich gleam shone?
What is this mass of light? From where is it sprung?

Is it to hear an echo, a poet’s words strung
of a golden journey, again to be undergone,
he has held close to the treasure-hoard of an old tongue?

It is to include the fellowship of the young
in the scholarship of the dark, that a diffident don
(What is this mass of light? From where is it sprung?)
still has kept bright the treasure-hoard of an old tongue.