Article - Poetry
Redmire
By Bill, added on 22/06/2008
In mythic pool within a glade
Where lily pads lend blessed shade
Lie fabled fishes seldom seen
Bishop, King and plumptious Queen
Our plucky piscator with care
would tempt the wraiths from out their lair
But how to do so?, by what right
Should monsters be drawn into light?
Whils't dear old Donald spins in box Our hero slinks like crafty fox
And slyly ties a rig of hair
Plucked from his crown with little care
For what is right and truly good
Then ties it to his wand of wood
If once we place dear dreams before
Our piercing gaze they are no more
And hunters by such graceless acts
Render them to dull cold facts.
