FIRST comes Tom Baynes among these sorted quills, In asynartete octosyllables. Methinks you see the "fo'c's'le" squat, the squirt Nicotian, various interval of shirt, Enlarged, contract -- keen swordsman, cut-and-thrust: Old salt, old rip, old friend, Tom Baynes comes @3fust@1. Succeeds our Curate, innocent and good, The growth of Oxford in her sanest mood; Dame Nature's child, though bred among the Stoics, And, if he gush, he gushes in heroics. Forgive the youth if sometimes he relax In extra gush of pseudo-dochmiacs. Last hear our Pazon, reverend and meek; In unadorned verse I make him speak, As is most fit. To him Tom Baynes' rude style Were "simply barbarous" -- I see him smile @3His@1 smile -- "Poor Tom has thoughts beyond his station, But language! sir -- unfit for publication." The Curate's rhymes he haply thinks audacious, Emphatic, overwrought. "But 'twere ungracious Of me to criticise a gentleman That is so kind and clever." There again You have our @3Pazon@1. So he says his say, And all my dreams of Manxland fade away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EBB by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY A LITTLE CHILD'S HYMN; FOR NIGHT AND MORNING by FRANCIS TURNER PALGRAVE ENGLAND IN 1819 by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY BROWN PENNY by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE MORAL FABLES: THE MOUSE AND THE PADDOCK by AESOP THE CLOAK by ANNA LOUISE BARNEY A VOYAGE TO CYTHERA by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE |