![]() La Belle Dame Sans Merci (sanitised version)A Poem by Gerald ParkerT'was a bitter chill morn I parted my goat hide door and beheld an ailing knight, forlorn and lingering there. What ails thee, I asked this sorry gent, oh why loiterest thou paley here outside my elfin grot, and, pray, why hast thou neither burnished armour nor Pre-Raphaelite vestment to keep thy vitals warm? Whereupon did I curse, * © 2019 Gerald Parker |
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Added on November 26, 2019 Last Updated on December 2, 2019 AuthorGerald ParkerLondon, United KingdomAboutThere's not much to tell. I read a lot of poetry and I read my own poetry regularly. I hope other people read it and derive as much pleasure out of it as I do. My output is small, about 110 poems as I.. more..Writing
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