More Poetry Spam; a sonnet on Edward Lear
I meant to wait till tomorrow, but it’s just too gorgeous.
W. H. Auden shows us how to do it;
Left by his friend to breakfast alone on the white
Italian shore, his Terrible Demon arose
Over his shoulder; he wept to himself in the night,
A dirty landscape-painter who hated his nose.
The legions of cruel inquisitive They
Were so many and big like dogs; he was upset
By Germans and boats; affection was miles away:
But guided by tears he successfully reached his Regret.
How prodigious the welcome was. Flowers took his hat
And bore him off to introduce him to the tongs;
The demon’s false nose made the table laugh; a cat
Soon had him waltzing madly, let him squeeze her hand;
Words pushed him to the piano to sing comic songs;
And children swarmed to him like settlers. He became a land.
more Auden
you likely know this one, but I can’t resist
Re: more Auden
goosebumps!
The do-ers and the not. And here I am, sitting at my keyboard…
Tomorrow’s sonnet will be “To the end of the world” by Archibald Macleish.
Re: more Auden
goosebumps!
The do-ers and the not. And here I am, sitting at my keyboard…
Tomorrow’s sonnet will be “To the end of the world” by Archibald Macleish.