David Lewis Paget

Bronze Star - 2,897 Points (22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)

David Lewis Paget Poems

41. Auto-Da-Fé 1/4/2015
42. Bad Blood 9/30/2005
43. Bad Christmas! 12/24/2014
44. Barton Leas 3/14/2009
45. Bats In The Belfry 7/16/2014
46. Beached Morning 9/17/2005
47. Bed & The Wardrobe 1/18/2015
48. Bed Of Roses 8/11/2014
49. Beddgelert - (Pron. Beth-Gelert) 2/8/2012
50. Before I Forget... 6/26/2006
51. Before Trafalgar 12/15/2014
52. Before We Part 9/30/2005
53. Behind The Hedge 5/4/2015
54. Bell, Book & Candle 12/21/2014
55. Bells And Motley 12/12/2014
56. Beside The River Wye 11/8/2014
57. Betrayed! 10/9/2012
58. Bibles 3/12/2006
59. Big Mack 8/26/2012
60. Birdsong 7/5/2015
61. Black And White 6/3/2014
62. Black Gold 6/17/2012
63. Black Tide 2/4/2013
64. Black-Haired Girls 12/9/2005
65. Blake - (Before Birth) . 9/30/2005
66. Bleak Psychosis 2/17/2013
67. Blind Man's Buff 10/5/2012
68. Blood, Red Blood... 9/6/2014
69. Blue Mountain Coffee 12/18/2005
70. Body Swap 3/9/2015
71. Bones! 1/16/2009
72. Books & Nooks 4/5/2013
73. Born For Raising Hell! 10/4/2014
74. Buried Alive! 12/29/2009
75. Bush Meeting 2/22/2013
76. Butterflies 1/3/2015
77. By Miners Hands 9/18/2005
78. Byron Bay 10/12/2005
79. Castle Walls 9/18/2005
80. Catherine Gables 9/17/2005
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

The End Of The Grange

There isn’t much left of The Grange today,
There isn’t much left at all,
Only a charred left wing, I think,
And the odd, still standing wall,
The central Hall is a pile of ash
As it was, the day I left,
Sat on the back of the doc’s grey mare
As the Lady Mary wept.

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