Robert Harrison
New member
This poem was written for my own pleasure and not for any serious criticism. The rhyming is not as it should be, and no doubt, the serious critique will have a field day in finding fault. Nonetheless, I like it. I hope that there are some of you who will share the pleasure of its content as it came to me at 5am this morning.
Come my pretty, come
Walk with me.
Put on thy cloak and
Hood.
Though the day be
Chill,
Let us together walk
Past singing rill
Towards Throckmorton
Wood.
Though the trees be still
Bare
Of their spring time
Cloaks,
There is much to be seen
'Neith the stately oaks as
Delicate pastels of daffodil
Yellow
To please the eye of maid
And fellow.
Look, yonder near the path,
See the hue
Atop the ringers rope,
Bells all painted blue.
Oh, love of my life,
My sweetheart
My wife,
What need have we of
Cities galleries?
Here, near home, earths
Beauties are realities.
My dear Jake
I thank you for your kindly comments, you are most generous.
Robert
Come my pretty, come
Walk with me.
Put on thy cloak and
Hood.
Though the day be
Chill,
Let us together walk
Past singing rill
Towards Throckmorton
Wood.
Though the trees be still
Bare
Of their spring time
Cloaks,
There is much to be seen
'Neith the stately oaks as
Delicate pastels of daffodil
Yellow
To please the eye of maid
And fellow.
Look, yonder near the path,
See the hue
Atop the ringers rope,
Bells all painted blue.
Oh, love of my life,
My sweetheart
My wife,
What need have we of
Cities galleries?
Here, near home, earths
Beauties are realities.
My dear Jake
I thank you for your kindly comments, you are most generous.
Robert