David Lewis Paget Poems

I seemed to be reading the same old book,
Over and over again,
With always a feeling of certainty
That nothing would change, it’s the same,
...

The bones of a Barquentine still lie
On the reef at Shipwreck Cove,
You can see the spars at the lowest tide
Where it sank with its treasure trove,
...

The beach swept away in the distance,
The tide as far out as could be,
A couple were laughing and playing there,
She’d cuffed him, in fun, to a tree,
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There’s a blank sheet of paper before me,
It’s as blank as our lives have become,
But nothing’s been said, though the passion is dead,
We still make believe we are one.
...

We’d been together for eighteen months
So I thought there was plenty of time,
We hadn’t discussed betrothal then,
But there, that isn’t a crime.
...

He lived in a fine old country house
Befitting a man of means,
With everything a Victorian Squire
Could aspire to, in his dreams.
...

They’d shovelled her husband into the ground
Before she got to the grave,
She wasn’t able to keep good time
And her husband used to rave:
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She walked the cobblestone streets at night,
Everyone thought her a pro,
Her skirt was short and her blouse was tight
And her eyes moved to and fro,
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Since ever he came to live at our house
We’d never felt safe or sure,
So late at night we’d turn out the light
And block up the bedroom door,
...

When the King rode off to the old Crusades
He was leaving his Queen behind,
Safe in the hands of his former aids
He was coy, but he wasn’t blind.
...