David Lewis Paget

Veteran Poet - 1,864 Points (22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)

David Lewis Paget Poems

361. Return Of The Wanderer 2/20/2015
362. Return To The Light That Failed 8/14/2014
363. Riding The Wenzhou Bus 2/27/2006
364. Roast Beef 10/5/2013
365. Robbing The Tomb 1/15/2010
366. Robot City 9/2/2012
367. Rocky Ground 3/18/2014
368. Romany Girl 9/17/2005
369. S.O.S. 10/8/2008
370. Salomé 11/13/2008
371. Saltwater Creek 9/30/2013
372. Sanctuary 9/18/2005
373. Sandcastles 2/6/2009
374. Saving Grace 1/4/2014
375. Saving The Sea 10/14/2013
376. Scene From A Yamaha 10/4/2005
377. Scrawled Silence 2/20/2008
378. Sea And Shore 9/29/2005
379. She Who Knows All... 4/20/2013
380. Ship To Shore 9/18/2005
381. Shoes 2/20/2008
382. Shooting Star 6/2/2014
383. Short Shrift 9/21/2005
384. Silvertongue 11/3/2009
385. Sink Or Swim 9/18/2005
386. Sir John De Vere 9/28/2005
387. Sir John Fitzalan's Ball 9/23/2013
388. Sister Switch 10/13/2014
389. Six Of Hearts 8/20/2010
390. Skipping! 4/1/2008
391. Smugglers Pie 7/16/2012
392. Snakes Alive! 2/15/2013
393. Some Sad Dream 5/28/2013
394. Somebody Help! 12/28/2007
395. Spend And Grieve 9/29/2005
396. Spirit 9/28/2005
397. Spqr 1/8/2013
398. Stalemate 9/18/2005
399. Starman 11/30/2009
400. Static 9/18/2005
Best Poem of David Lewis Paget

Swan Song

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 ...

Read the full of Swan Song

Spirit

‘I died early, ’ said the Spirit,
‘So I didn’t have the chance to learn,
And though I don’t exactly burn
With envy for your thirty years,
It’s such a pity dying young,
The pleasures of a youth, unsung…
For all I left behind of me
Were memories of my mother’s pain
In birth and death,

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