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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

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    - Marianne Moore Visible, invisible, a fluctuating charm an amber-tinctured amethyst inhabits it, your arm approaches and it opens and it closes;…

  • Poem: As kingfishers catch fire

    - Gerard Manley Hopkins As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame; As tumbled over rim in roundy wells Stones ring; like each tucked…

  • Poem: The Starlight Night

    - Gerard Manley Hopkins Look at the stars! look, look up at the skies! O look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air! The bright boroughs, the…