The Angel of Lygon Street

Back in the days of the old gas lamps

When the streets were lit, but dim,

A young lamplighter would tour the streets

And the houses, looking in,

The flickering flame of each lamp would light

The windows in the dark,

He’d see what he wasn’t meant to see

In the light of each flickering spark.

He saw what he thought was an angel

Through a window in Lygon Street,

Sitting in front of a mirror, 

Looking down, and washing her feet.

Her hair trailed over her shoulders like

Some golden ears of corn,

Then she looked up, and her bright blue eyes

Made him feel he was new-born.

Her lips were set in a steady pout

And were red and ripe to kiss,

Her brows were raised as she looked his way

And his heart felt instant bliss,

While she looked through her window pane

At the face of an angel boy,

Who, breathing mist on her window glass

Had scribbled his name there, ‘Roy’.

Their eyes had locked with each other when

He framed his lips in a kiss,

And she stood up and approached him, 

Then she put her lips to his,

They stayed so long that the glass had warmed

But the mist spread round about,

Till neither could see the other it

Had blotted each vision out.

Then every night he had lingered there

With his taper to her lamp,

And shivered out on the footpath for

The nights were getting damp,

He hoped that she would be sitting where

She had sat, before the kiss,

But nothing had moved within that room

From that day until this.

He didn’t know but she’d had to go

To stay on her uncle’s farm,

To breathe the purer air out there

Than the fog that did her harm,

She still spat blood in her handkerchief

But she thought about the boy,

Who’d kissed her once through a window pane

And the thought still brought her joy.

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A sad ending to a beautiful story my friend.
"She still spat blood in her handkerchief
But she thought about the boy,
Who’d kissed her once through a window pane
And the thought still brought her joy."
I liked the above lines. Simple memories become more important with age and time. Thank you David for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote

[A Soap Mess Stories]

Another amazing story David...loved reading it...

[Robert Haigh]

A bitter-sweet, magical write, David. You have the gift of the storyteller down to a fine art! Enjoyed. Happy New Year to you!

[Damien Thibodeaux]

I have been away from this site for many, many months. Decided to check it out tonight to read some original work for pleasure and I'm glad I did. Yours was one of the featured poems. I just need to say, this is beautifully written. It took me back to another time and told the tale of a tragic love that will never be, through a single moment of human connection. Your story is richly detailed and painted the perfect picture in the mind. I enjoyed it very much.

[Ted Kniffen]

A hint of Dickens at Christmastime. Reminded me of Miss Havisham and the cold streets of London. The scene was set and the characters well drawn, The plot line stood out. There was real feeling in this piece. Good write

[Avinash]

This one has turned out to be a beautiful love story. It has beauty and tragedy in equal measures.

[Valentine]

This is so romantic and flows perfectly. I could even picture the street lamps of old. I really enjoyed this one. Valentine