SistersI don't have any actual, real blood sisters
I do have some sister in Church who are lovely
and some sister in Law who are also lovely
and some pretend sisters who are great too
The point being that I watched two sisters tonight
on the big screen
the were Anne and Mary Boleyn
both of whom were I imagine real people
but I'm guessing there was quite a lot of fiction in the film
because the film made the main men
Henry, their father and uncle
seem like rogues
and men never are!
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Take a look at this:
It is suggested Anne Boleyn haunts Blickling Hall as it was a place she associated with childhood happiness, far from the tensions of the royal court.
While she was captive in the Tower of London and awaiting execution, she wrote the following lines:
A captive, I in this dread Tower, scenes of childhood gaiety recall,
They comfort bring in this dark hour, now gaiety hath flown,
Through Blickling’s glades I fain would ride, soft green sward,
Sequested shade, no cruel intrigues to deride my simple rustic day.
A child, I watched the timid fawn, gentle eyed, steal to the lake
With thirst to quench when mists of dawn had from cool waters fled.
Strutting peacocks, shimmering blue, roseate arbour, scented walk
Gladly I left, ’tis strangely true, for pageantry at court.
False vanities my pride hath tricked, this place of damp and anguished stone
By sullen river surges licked, doth mock my hopeless lot
Oh, were I still a child in stature small
To tread the rose-lined paths of Blickling Hall.
Sad isn't it? "False vanities my pride hath tricked..."
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It is suggested Anne Boleyn haunts Blickling Hall as it was a place she associated with childhood happiness, far from the tensions of the royal court.
While she was captive in the Tower of London and awaiting execution, she wrote the following lines:
A captive, I in this dread Tower, scenes of childhood gaiety recall,
They comfort bring in this dark hour, now gaiety hath flown,
Through Blickling’s glades I fain would ride, soft green sward,
Sequested shade, no cruel intrigues to deride my simple rustic day.
A child, I watched the timid fawn, gentle eyed, steal to the lake
With thirst to quench when mists of dawn had from cool waters fled.
Strutting peacocks, shimmering blue, roseate arbour, scented walk
Gladly I left, ’tis strangely true, for pageantry at court.
False vanities my pride hath tricked, this place of damp and anguished stone
By sullen river surges licked, doth mock my hopeless lot
Oh, were I still a child in stature small
To tread the rose-lined paths of Blickling Hall.
Sad isn't it? "False vanities my pride hath tricked..."
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