Neuschwanstein Castle

 The mountains rise like giants round
The mist enfolds their ancient moundsA castle hides within their wallsAs grand as mountains to the thrallsWhose hands brought forth the masterpieceBy order of a man of griefKing Ludwig, mad he was indeedHe listened to wants and not to needs. The throne room grand, is guarded byThe saints and kings depicted nighAbove the place where king would sitIs Jesus, pax vobiscum sitThe chandelier hangs high aboveMosaic floors and gilded stuffThe throne is gone, was never thereThe king was dead too soon to care The bedroom of the king is smallWith intricate woodwork decorating allThe canopy of his bed is like the domesOf the cathedrals you can see in RomeA synthetic cave leads you on to the hallWhere music competitions are held ever fall With scenes from Wagner on everythingThe composer much beloved by the king. The gold and precious gems adornWalls and halls now long forlornHe lived there not for half a yearThis castle that he held so dear,Unfit to rule he was declaredAnd sent to somewhere far from thereAnd dead was found not one day henceAnd all thought it due recompense. The castle lone, unfinished layBut not for long, for soon would theyOpen it's doors again, this timeNot for royal but common eyesA museum it became, a museum remainsFor years to come, until today.And so, a waste for mad King LudwigA waste it's not for all the tourists.

They didn't allow pictures in the castle so you'll have to let my poor poetry paint the picture. :)

 

Hannah