The Storyteller
Tim of the Tales they call me, With a welcome heart and hand; But little they hold my brother For all his cattle and land. If I be walking the high road From Clare that goes to the sea, A troop of the young run leaping To gather a story from me. Tim of the Tales, the folk say, Is known the world around, For children by taking his stories To their homes in foreign ground. I pity my brother his fortunes, And how he sits alone, With the money that keeps his body, But leaves his heart a stone. And sometimes do I be feeling A dream of death in my ear, And a heaven of children calling, "Tim of the Tales is here."
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"Tim of the Tales they call me,..."
Michael Earls's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "The Storyteller"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...