Posted by Admin on 24 February 2008, 12:00 am
Another poet, and still no line
from her whose flowing pen
has censured, praised, or coerced mine
in verse to write again.
O can it be some careless phrase
of mine misjudged has been?
For meaning oft in vagueness strays
where countless errors teem.
The postman comes, but no relief
to soothe my anxious state;
suspicion grows to firm belief
that all in vain I wait.
The pen that once with youthful zest
recorded zealous views
has ceased to flow, and now unblessed,
I’m left sans hope – sans news!
T. C. Hudson
© T. C. Hudson.
Village
Parish Council