Snowshill Manor

Snowhill Manor
A 16th century country house
Where once we know
A certain architect was living
A poet too
Who loved the flow
Of words and phrases
Of alliteration
And quietly he loved
The old crafte
Alchemy and magic thrilled him
Even though some thought him daf’t

Charles Paget Wade
He travelled widely
Collecting like a raven he
Loved his objects every one of them
Fascinated genuinely

Samurai armour, clocks and candles
Ritual magic was his thing
Up there in the witches garret
Prophetic sightings he did bring
Into his reality his metapsychics
His secret art
He found all this stuff enchanting
He seemed spellbound from the start

In the house there still are symbols
Magically they are on the walls
Much of it went to Boscastle
Washed away by the flooded falls
Ghosts are said to walk
At night times
A young women forced to wed
Someone she was never fond of
And unhappily she has led
Her night times through
The draughty garret
Along with a monk so they say
All those artifacts were present
And can be seen by you each day

To this day some who visit
Feel the ambience of soul
The weird uncanny manifeststions
As if someone wants to control.
Local stone grade 2 listed
Brewhouse dovecote and the wall
Gate piers and 4 manor cottages
The homage he paid to it all