In a village quaint, by the sleepy town’s embrace,

Lived a huntsman, skilled, with a weathered face,

with tales and fortunes, he wished to sow.

He dreamed of lions roaming wild and free,

In a mirror, his wishes aged like leaves on a tree

as the winds of fortune for he, worked slow.

Jim and Jay, the Huntsman’s sons, so contrary,

Learned manners well from Aunt Mary.

and Uncle Wells, who raised them bright,

Jim and Jay, two lads of curious delight,

With winds at their backs, they’d set their sights,

On tales told by one who left. They too planned flight.

Adventures contrary to cousin Selena’s plan,

contrary to conduct learned from a wise old man.

In this sleepy town, where life was slow,

not far off, prowling like a wolf, a terrible robber man,

who roamed the woods, with his dark, wicked plan.

Such adventures only Nicholas Henry would know.

“There are no wolves in England now,” they said,

As they tucked their children into cozy beds,

By the cat, the milk jug sat forgotten in the glen,

Nicholas Henry, outside windows, listening to stories told,

to Jim and Jay Henry of his love, felt less bold.

As four paws prowled; the gardener’s cat again?

Poor Henry, once a lad with a twinkle in his eye,

Sought treasures ‘neath the moonlit sky.

Tongues whispered secrets in hushed delight,

With four paws, the gardener’s cat roamed far and wide,

Guarding against the terrible robber man’s stride.

As Jim and Jay ventured out into the night.

“There are no wolves in England now,” they’d say,

But still, they feared the night and its shadowy display.

Years ago, Nicholas Henry sat by the fire’s glow,

In the coop, the hens clucked and laid their eggs,

While the rabbit nibbled near the milk jug’s edge,

Nicholas Henry spoke of journeys far and dreams to follow.

Poor Nicholas Henry, he sighed beneath the moon’s glow,

As tongues whispered secrets only he’d know,

“There are no wolves in England now,” they’d say,

As Jim and Jay ventured where fairies danced,

In the moonlight’s shimmer, their joy enhanced.

But still, they feared the night and its shadowy display.

Fairies danced in the moonlight’s gentle beam,

Their silvery gowns a wondrous, magical gleam.

as the huntsman who had returned as a robber,

as the Fairies sang their lullaby sweet,

guiding sleepy boys to the wolves to meet,

as Poor Henry decided to be a father,

The dance of adventure, a lullaby so sweet,

By a crackling fire in a rocking chair’s seat,

Poor Henry, slumber beckoned with a gentle nod,

In a rocking chair, by the hearth’s warm ember,

When he lost his sons, he lost tales to fondly remember.

Now only in dreams does he see them abroad.

This is part of a TABLE OF CONTENTS restraint poem- In this constraint, I have taken a Poetry Anthology originally published in 1925. Each section contains 20-40 titles. My Constraint was to use as many words as possible in the table of contents to construct a new Poem.