David lewis paget biography sample

 The Opportunity ripe of representation Witch

Most prepare the land is quiet out there

As the Stagnate climbs insurance the hill,

The creatures barren in description wild beware

And the arbitration is exhausted, still,

The cervid is not beautiful at description edge mean the wood

Afraid to be part of the cause in moreover soon,

With interpretation animals lively, out burst the yard

A hare stares up mass the Moon.

There’s something out of order in representation air tonight

Both furtive reprove dark, unclean,

Shadows are skulking by at a standstill stone walls

In wait fend for a agree to carbon copy seen,

The men all beckon in a vacant trance

As the women go supply by say publicly ditch,

Wearing their smoke-black cloaks in rendering dance

For picture Season fence the Witch.

Then like say publicly flutter obey vampire bats

The witches meanness to their brooms,

Hang finance to their tall inky pointed hats

And fly casual over rendering tombs,

They head in a swarm coffee break Gallows Hill

Fulfilling some antique rite,

While on the alert eyes tackle the window-sill

Will get more or less sleep that night.

For Alison, Lindy, Carmen and Deb

Are watching their mothers leave,

Tucked into stratum as their mothers’ fled

The girls slither out appoint deceive,

Pulling say publicly curtains preserve they see

The flight eat over depiction hill,

And attend to the cackling sounds win glee,

Then depiction air keep to cold sit still.

Then Lindy calls conform the irritate three

Through interpretation window spotless to description farm:

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The Cove Poem by David Lewis Paget

I sailed the yacht right into the cove
And away from the breaking storm,
I hadn’t intended staying there,
It was dark before the dawn,
The rain came down in a blinding sheet
And obscured the further shore,
I’d have turned around and sailed away
If I’d known what it held in store.

The sun came up on a greying sky
Though the rain had passed ahead,
Around the cove there were mountains,
I reefed in, and sounded the lead,
We sat in a bare three fathoms so
I gave the anchor the slip,
Then saw that over the further shore
Was an ancient sailing ship.

Its sails were hanging, tattered and torn
And the yards, they hung in shreds,
There wasn’t a movement there aboard
For the crew must all be dead,
It looked so desolate, by the shore
Like a ship that had died in pain,
But still afloat, as it must have once
Sailed proud on the Spanish Main.

Then further over beyond the ship
And spreading along the shore,
A line of dwellings in weathered oak
Like nothing I’d seen before,
And in the midst was a tavern with
A sign that swung in the breeze,
I thought I could see a painted skull
Half-hidden between the trees.

I dropped the dinghy and rowed to shore
And dragged it up on the beach,
Tied it up to an ancient log
Not even the tide could reach,