Poems by Henry Treece
Poem - I
... The graceful swan breasting the blood-red stream, ...
The Waiting Watchers
... What tongue is tunes to speak last night's quick scream ...
Lincolnshire Bomber Station
... Through flat, damp fields call sheep, mourning their dead ...
Poem - II
... Death walks through the mind's dark woods, ...
Poem - III
... And the dove flutters in the black boughs ...
The Haunted Garden
... They watch the pleasures they may never share ...
