Ralph Hodgson

Here you will find the Poem Playmates of poet Ralph Hodgson


It's sixty years ago, the people say: 
Two village children, neighbours born and bred, 
One morning played beneath a rotten tree 
That came down crash and caught them as they fled; 
And one was killed and one was left unhurt 
Except for certain fancies in his head. 
And though it's all so very long ago 
He's never left the wood a single day; 
I've often met him peeping through the leaves 
And chuckling to himself, an old man grey; 
And once he started in his cracked old voice: 
'We're playing I'm a merchant lost his way, 
She's robbers in the wood behind yon tree, 
The minute we grow up too big to play' -