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Poem: Song of the Mad Prince

Who said, “Peacock Pie”?
The old King to the sparrow:
Who said, “Crops are ripe”?
Rust to the harrow:
Who said, “Where sleeps she now?
Where rests she now her head,
Bathed in eve’s loveliness”? —
That’s what I said.

Who said, “Ay, mum’s the word”?
Sexton to willow:
Who said, “Green dusk for dreams,
Moss for a pillow”?
Who said, “All Time’s delight
Hath she for narrow bed;
Life’s troubled bubble broken”? —
That’s what I said.

- Walter de la Mare
Indexing:

Posts from This Journal by “poetry” Tag

  • Poem: The Titmouse

    - Walter de la Mare If you would happy company win, Dangle a palm-nut from a tree, Idly in green to sway and spin, Its snow-pulped kernel for…

  • Poem: It was not Death, for I stood up

    - Emily Dickinson It was not Death, for I stood up, And all the Dead, lie down— It was not Night, for all the Bells Put out their Tongues,…

  • Poem: The Keys of Morning

    Walter de la Mare While at her bedroom window once, Learning her task for school, Little Louisa lonely sat In the morning clear and cool, She…