David Lewis Paget
David Lewis Paget Poems
|1122.||What's In A Name?||5/7/2008|
|1123.||When Our Days Are Minutes...||9/17/2005|
|1124.||When Peggity Pulled The Cord||5/16/2013|
|1125.||When The Welsh Of Wales Go Home||9/18/2005|
|1126.||Where Are The Birds Of Wenzhou, Bei Bei||11/8/2005|
|1127.||While I Write And Breathe...||3/8/2008|
|1131.||Why Does My Faith...||10/23/2007|
|1136.||Woman In Black||11/4/2012|
|1137.||Woman In Child||9/18/2005|
|1138.||Woman Of Stone||3/15/2012|
|1141.||Would He Even Know Me Now?||3/4/2008|
|1149.||You Can'T Come In!||7/17/2014|
|1150.||You Can'T Go Out Today!||10/4/2013|
|1151.||You Were Only Talking...||2/22/2008|
|1152.||You'Ve Got Magic!||4/30/2009|
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 ...
Sir John De Vere
Sir John de Vere has took a quill
And set himself to sit and write
The sweetest love that is of men
To take unto his heart's delight.
And he has took a damsel fair
That flitteth by, beseemingly,
And with a strand of golden hair
Begun to weave her mystery.