Swan Song Poem by David Lewis Paget

Swan Song

Rating: 4.8


Her hair was as black as a starling's tail,
Her cheeks as pale as a swan,
Her eyes, like two slim moonstones, glowed
And her mouth was the Holy Grail.
She'd played in the dirt of the village street
So long ago, so long...
She'd swum in the pools of the mountain stream,
But now, that girl had gone.

While I still rise with the early bird
To tend to my father's fields,
As the only son of an only son
I watched the woman leave.
She cried sweet tears as she said farewell
And vowed to come back, and soon,
But the village streets of a western town
Hold nothing for Ling Xiaodan.

The weeks went by, then the months and years
And I heard of her now and then,
She was dressed in expensive clothes, I heard,
She was driving a shiny car;
She was seen at the Beijing Opera
By a man who worked at the door,
'She glided by like a Queen, ' he said,
'As her dress trailed long on the floor.'

And her wai po, down in the village square
Would brag of her daughter's girl,
'She will snare some man with a million yuan, '
She said, 'not a farmer's son.
Go home to your fields and forget her now,
She's not for an also-ran! '
And laughed, as the tears sprang into my eyes
For the love of Ling Xiaodan.

She came back once to the village street
To her home, as ever we must,
But carefully held her dress up high
To avoid the rubbish and dust,
I stood at the side and she looked at me,
Then turned, looked quickly away,
For Ling Xiaodan and a farmer's son
Had nothing at all to say.

But I saw her once before she left,
Alone by the mountain stream,
Her eyes were sorrowful, in remorse,
Remembering how we'd been.
'I loved you once, as a child, ' she said
'But the world is harsh, and grey...
We do what our fathers want us to,
And my father sent me away.'

I sat by her then, and held her hand,
Stroking her neck, and hair,
And kissed the cheek, so pale and wan,
And I cried in a deep despair.
'You must get on with your life, ' she said,
'Get a wife and a baby son;
I leave tomorrow to see the man
That my father has met in town.'

I heard that she'd wed a businessman,
And cried in the quiet gloom,
My dream had died by the mountain stream,
On that day, in the afternoon.
She worked in a shop her husband owned,
So they said, but I never heard
'Til the body was brought back home again,
That the love of my life was dead.

It seemed that she'd sold her favours there
In the rear of a grimy store,
To any man with the change to spare
While her husband played Mah Jongg.
He'd gambled his fortune, and lost it all
While his wife kept the fool from jail
With what she earned with her hands and hair,
And a mouth like the Holy Grail.

But then, a man who was ill or mad
Put his grimy hands at her throat,
And squeezed the life from the darling neck
That I'd once both loved, and stroked.
They buried her up on the mountainside
By the stream, in sight of her home,
And from where I stand in the paddy fields
I can see her pale white stone.

She'd played in the dirt of the village street
So long ago, so long...
She'd swum in the pools of the mountain stream,
But now, that girl had gone.
I married a woman I barely knew
And she bore me a black-haired girl,
With eyes like two slim moonstones, and...
A mouth like the Holy Grail.

10 March 2006

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Susan Williams 30 July 2014

Your poetry could be listed among The Complete List of Top 500 Poems and settle in nicely between Shelley and Wordsworth and Keats. You are a master storyteller and your verse flows so smoothly and clear, I'd come to your fire anytime to listen to a tale of yours.

21 0 Reply
David Lewis Paget 30 July 2012

Thank you everyone for your kind comments. The idea came to me from an article I read in the China Daily, during a year teaching there, about a young married couple who'd borrowed 30,000 yuan to get married, then had difficulty paying it back. The groom went to Beijing to earn more money while the bride, unknown to him, worked as a prostitute, But she kept a diary, and in it constantly wrote how much she loved her husband. Then she was murdered by a customer, and the groom came back, heartbroken to bury her. He found the diary. I changed the story somewhat to underline how difficult it is for Chinese girls to marry the man of their choice. David Lewis Paget

5 0 Reply
Diana Van Den Berg 30 July 2013

A sensitive, beautiful ballad, that held my attention from the first word to the last. I read all the comments, including your response about its origin. It is so sad that so much manmade misery grips the world in such a stranglehold, not just in China, but also in so many other corners of the globe too, in some form or other, whether in macrocosm or microcosm...

4 0 Reply
Kevin Patrick 30 July 2013

Phenomenal story, I was swept in the rhythm of this desperate tale of love and loss, you wax amazing lyrical words. This was truly a wonderful story. Concise and alive, its sad where you got the inspiration from but at least in some way that innocent women lives on in this work

3 0 Reply
Leslie Philibert 30 July 2014

David is rightly known and well liked...

2 0 Reply
alan brown 07 April 2018

a very sad story David, enjoyed reading your epic poem Alan

1 0 Reply
Galina Italyanskaya 30 November 2017

Thank you for sharing, it's a wonderful ballad!

1 0 Reply

Compelling! Creative! Captivating! Well done!

1 0 Reply
Pietro 6 31 January 2016

No one can't say BEAUTIFUL

1 0 Reply
Clarence Prince 04 July 2015

Oh, what a woman! With eyes like moonstones, and a mouth like the Holy Grail. A nice piece of work, David, thanks for sharing!

1 0 Reply
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David Lewis Paget

David Lewis Paget

Nottingham, England/live in Australia
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