A Poem on Guy Fawkes and the Gunpowder Plot of 1605

Remember, remember, that November night,
When treason crept beneath the light;
When England's throne and Parliament
Were marked for death by dark intent.

In sixteen hundred and five, they planned
To strike a blow across the land;
With powder stored beneath the floor,
To shake the kingdom to its core.

Guy Fawkes, a soldier, stern and bold,
Stood guard beside the barrels cold;
While Catesby led the secret band,
Who sought to change the fate of England.

Beneath the Lords, in shadows deep,
The deadly powder lay asleep;
Awaiting but a spark of flame,
To set the realm ablaze with shame.

But whispered warnings found their way,
And brought the hidden plot to day;
A letter sent, a search begun,
Revealed the deed before 'twas done.

Upon the fourth, as midnight neared,
The watchmen came, the truth appeared;
And Fawkes was seized beside his store,
His secret hidden there no more.

King James was spared, the Lords remained,
And England's streets with joy were filled;
The plot had failed, the danger passed,
The conspirators were caught at last.

Yet history speaks with solemn voice,
Of desperate men and dreadful choice;
For violence born of bitter strife
Can rob the innocent of life.

And still, when autumn skies grow bright,
With bonfires burning through the night,
The people gather and recall
The plot that might have ruined all.

So let the bells of memory ring,
Of Parliament, of plot, and king;
And may the lesson linger yet,
That treason's cost we ne'er forget.

For centuries pass, and kingdoms change,
And time makes ancient deeds seem strange;
Yet still the words are spoken clear:
Remember November, year by year.