David Lewis Paget

Bronze Star - 2,520 Points (22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)

David Lewis Paget Poems

761. The Sacrifice And The Cloud 11/14/2014
762. The Saga Of Li Ning-Yang 3/7/2013
763. The Saxon Bride 1/17/2013
764. The Scarecrow 7/30/2013
765. The Scribe In The Woods Of Time 3/11/2012
766. The Script 3/4/2015
767. The Season Of The Witch 10/14/2012
768. The Second Coming 6/22/2012
769. The Secret Women's Clique 9/8/2013
770. The Secret Wood 11/7/2014
771. The Seeds Of Disaster 1/12/2014
772. The Serpent In The Pool 8/4/2013
773. The Seventh Floor 12/9/2013
774. The Shadow Makers 12/23/2014
775. The Shadow Of Elspeth Brown 5/22/2012
776. The Shopfront Fire 6/8/2015
777. The Sin Eater 5/15/2014
778. The Snake 4/27/2013
779. The Snow Queen 1/18/2013
780. The Sooth-Sayer 2/6/2013
781. The Soul Collector 1/4/2013
782. The Sound Of The Spheres 7/25/2012
783. The Spawn Of War 4/8/2015
784. The Spitfire 2/19/2012
785. The Spyders 8/20/2014
786. The Stake 6/6/2012
787. The Stalker 11/16/2012
788. The Stand-Over Man 7/5/2015
789. The Star 9/18/2005
790. The Starlings Have To Be Fed! 4/28/2015
791. The Stepfather 6/22/2015
792. The Stoker 3/19/2009
793. The Storm & The Tall-Ship Pier 11/2/2013
794. The Storyline 8/20/2013
795. The Storyteller 8/22/2014
796. The Tale On A Bloodied Screed 12/29/2014
797. The Tale That Couldn'T Be Told 5/20/2015
798. The Tattooed Man 8/24/2010
799. The Telegram 9/30/2005
800. The Telephone Box 12/5/2013
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

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.

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