1972

‘Will someone buy this year of mine?

A year, knocked down to first bid…’

I watched the old man through the wine

To know well what he did…

 

‘A twelvemonth worth no more than this,

With all its sorrows, all its bliss?’

 

‘Ah… such a year is ours to give

   Now it’s done…

 

They’ll say:

 

   ‘That year did poets live…’

 

                          God Bless Everyone!

 

David Lewis Paget