A White Stag Poem by Michael Shindler
A White Stag
A white stag, a white stag,
How many hands is he high?
Are his antlers silver?
And is the sea in his eye?
A strange clang, a strange clang
From the antlers and the sword.
Together we had come:
One a king and one a lord
Where goes he, where goes he?
He who was but in my hand,
There he was; there he fell
Like a shadow falls on land.
Tuesday, May 19, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: lord
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Originally Published in New English Review (January 2020)
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3/12/2026 1:14:06 PM # 1.0.0
