David Lewis Paget

Silver Star - 3,896 Points (22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)

David Lewis Paget Poems

961. Waters Into Wine 9/17/2005
962. Wattle & Daub 6/3/2009
963. Waxwork 4/12/2013
964. Well We Might 9/18/2005
965. What Happened To The Day? 10/17/2008
966. What Happens? 12/26/2014
967. What's In A Name? 5/7/2008
968. When Our Days Are Minutes... 9/17/2005
969. When Peggity Pulled The Cord 5/16/2013
970. When The Welsh Of Wales Go Home 9/18/2005
971. Where Are The Birds Of Wenzhou, Bei Bei 11/8/2005
972. While I Write And Breathe... 3/8/2008
973. White Horses 9/18/2005
974. Who Cares? 9/30/2005
975. Why Does My Faith... 10/23/2007
976. Widdershins 6/20/2012
977. Winter Comes... 3/15/2008
978. Woman 3/30/2008
979. Woman In Black 11/4/2012
980. Woman In Child 9/18/2005
981. Woman Of Stone 3/15/2012
982. Wood Men 1/25/2013
983. Words 9/30/2005
984. Would He Even Know Me Now? 3/4/2008
985. Wrong Mountain! 12/18/2014
986. Wry! 11/6/2009
987. Www. 6/9/2008
988. Wych Elm 9/18/2005
989. Yesterdays Lost 2/11/2013
990. Yggdrasil 10/27/2009
991. You Can'T Come In! 7/17/2014
992. You Can'T Go Out Today! 10/4/2013
993. You Were Only Talking... 2/22/2008
994. You'Ve Got Magic! 4/30/2009
995. Zanzibar! 12/14/2014
996. Zombie 4/13/2013
997. Zorga's Gate 7/27/2013
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

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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