As I Spied Swallows Scything…
As I spied swallows scything Across an evening sky, I thought upon those midges Whose turn it was to die. Do midges boast of heroes? Are some born lame or halt? Are geniuses among them To reckon blame or fault? And as they swarm by millions In garden, field or fen, Do midges mourn their fellows? Or do they die like men?
Poem Published in the following books: A Glass Half Full