With childish laugh and dainty little hand
She builds a thousand castles in the sand.
Though errant tides would wash them all away,
She can return to build another day.
...
Lying in bed, so snug and warm
we listen to the awesome storm.
The lightning flash, the thunder’s roll
bring trembling to the bravest soul.
...
Do not forsake me my Myfanwy
I dread each moment we’re apart.
Please hold me in your arms Myfanwy
the way I hold you in my heart.
...
Gone is the supple sap of Spring
And leaves hang limply from the sovereign tree
Remembering the time the world was young
And days were green in their fecundity
...
The hall clock struck twelve, I retired to bed,
put out the light and laid down my head,
whispered goodnight as we both turned to sleep
sank into slumber so restful and deep.
...
If anyone should feel inclined to try
to write a sonnet, I will understand
that first you may feel diffident and shy.
Pick up your pen and let me guide your hand.
...
If poetry is not disposed to rhyme
Would it still honour metrical display;
Could lyrics sing and still maintain the tune
and ballads hold their pleasing harmony?
...
Yesterday we set the vine
with quickened heart and supple limb.
We drank from eager honeyed mouths,
played Harlequin and Columbine;
...
I was sitting at the traffic lights
and looking straight ahead;
I was pumping up the motor for
the traffic lights were red,
...