The Poet

The Poet

A poet lived in Galilee,
Whose mother dearly knew him –
And his beauty like a cooling tree
Drew many people to him .

He loved the speech of simple men
And little children’s laughter ,
He came –they always came again ,
He went – they followed after .

He had sweet-hearted things to say ,
And he was solemn only
When people were unkind …that day
He would stand there straight and lonely

And tell them what they ought to do :
“Love other folk,”he pleaded ,
“As you love me and I love you!”
But almost no one heeded .

A poet died in Galilee,
They stared at him and slew him …
What would they do to you and me
If we could say we knew him ?
Jan Bagwell
Jan Bagwell