Christopher Laverty Poems

I have a tale as strange as fantasy -
of deadly passions and possessive rage,
of gains in knowledge thrown in jeopardy -
set in Messina - in the dawning age
...

Away with Loneness - he whose winter bites,
who haunts the wasted wilderness and shores,
born in thunder on the misty moors;
who, bred by wolves, with howling fills the nights.
...

The sky is charged; a veil of frozen dew
enshrouds the earth; the distant hilltops wear
the evening's pall of sullen, sable hue.
Still is the wind. With cries that fill the air,
...

Cold is the air - still are the trees -
the clouds are streaked with red;
hushed are the birds as dusk descends
and here you lay your head.
...

Disturb her not - she is not far;
she hears our voices - have no doubt.
Death does not her beauty mar -
not blow her candle wholly out.
...

Old tales of knights and honour I have turned:
sat at baronial tables, seen a hall -
through plots I've overheard - now rise, now fall -
spied cloistered sighs, felt pangs of lovers spurned;
...

Spirited upon your wings,
reveries bring boundless things;
with a pinch the sprightly fairy
blithely lures me while unwary,
...

The bee-loved foxgloves could not charm the mead -
geraniums their full-lipped petals fend
against first frosts - bright roses not ascend
the cottage arbours - if they did not feed;
...

It happened all so quickly down in there -
there in the mine - working away was I -
all of a sudden - gave me such a scare -
rocks were falling - I had no time to try
...

How sore my legs - but brings this fire much cheer,
come gather round, I'm pleased in meeting you -
Billy Puck am I, and hail from near -
droll teller, balladeer, and singer too.
...