David Lewis Paget

Silver Star - 4,473 Points (22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)

David Lewis Paget Poems

961. Trench Warfare 9/30/2005
962. Trick Or Treat 10/31/2014
963. Trip To Nowhere 6/20/2010
964. Turn Of The Knife 12/28/2015
965. Twenty Years Down - (The Beatles) 10/4/2005
966. Two Hundred Years After Cook 9/28/2005
967. Two Paths... 1/1/2015
968. Two Pigeons 1/18/2014
969. Two Steps Closer To Hell 2/25/2016
970. Uncle 2/1/2013
971. Under The City Streets 3/14/2013
972. Underneath The Ice 4/17/2012
973. Up In The Attic 9/20/2012
974. Vain Imaginings 9/18/2005
975. Vanishing Point 11/9/2012
976. Ve Haf Vays... 6/7/2009
977. Voice In The Wind 9/4/2012
978. Waiting For You! 10/18/2015
979. Walpurgisnacht 12/30/2012
980. War Of Words 10/15/2013
981. Waters Into Wine 9/17/2005
982. Wattle & Daub 6/3/2009
983. Waxwork 4/12/2013
984. Wedlock 3/1/2016
985. Well We Might 9/18/2005
986. What Happened To The Day? 10/17/2008
987. What Happens? 12/26/2014
988. What's In A Name? 5/7/2008
989. When Our Days Are Minutes... 9/17/2005
990. When Peggity Pulled The Cord 5/16/2013
991. When The Welsh Of Wales Go Home 9/18/2005
992. Where Are The Birds Of Wenzhou, Bei Bei 11/8/2005
993. While I Write And Breathe... 3/8/2008
994. Whispering Walls 3/21/2016
995. White Horses 9/18/2005
996. Who Cares? 9/30/2005
997. Why Does My Faith... 10/23/2007
998. Widdershins 6/20/2012
999. Winter Comes... 3/15/2008
1000. Woman 3/30/2008
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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