Does Anyone Want Beautiful Poems Cried The Peddler Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

does anyone want beautiful poems cried the peddler
from his cart, a litte broken down.
just hold them up to the Light, he said in a winsome tone

you'll see.
I stepped out between the hyacinths
somewhat shyly.

oh sir. I'll have some
their colours flying that do not set
with the moon or sun.

and when the purple evening flung
almost over me, her last shadow entirely-
I was not sorry

for having done so.

mary angela douglas 29 july 2014