Poetry Archives

There was a tower, once,
In a London street.
It was the highest, widest, thickest tower,
The proudest, roundest, finest tower
Of all towers.
English men passed it by:
They could not see it all
Because it went above tree-tops and clouds.

It was lonely up there where the trees stopped
Until one day
A blue falcon came flying.
He cried:
“Tower!  Do you know you are the highest, finest, roundest,
The tallest, proudest, greatest,
Of all the towers
In all the world?”

He went away.
That night the tower made a new song
About himself.