beyond the bonny sallie willow grove
beside the shallow pool, none bend to grieve
no bannered tomb, only a hallowed groove.
Cardenio's dreams lie in a fallen snarl
of lost intentions, fallow, slow as snail
the filings of his plan, through those who kneel
or fill their glass with drams to toast his name.
Cardenio's play is lies and bones of dreams
procession of the willing, swelled with drums
with all the words unmarked, the swell, the drones
all hollow pomp of lost forgotten dramas.
So nineweaving had a post about finding the bones of Richard III, and concluded it by wishing they'd find Cardenio next. Cardenio is of course a lost Shakespeare play, but in the context of finding tombs I immediately thought "Cardenio's bones lie in an unmarked grave" and that instantly made me think of the Welsh grave poems, the tags of where heroes lie buried with very specific locations down to the tree, and then I thought maybe I could do a Welsh poetic thing in English, you know, because I am completely mad and I haven't had breakfast yet. It's not quite right, but it will have to do.