LAST night I rode with Touchstone on a bus From Ludgate Hill to World's End. It was he! Despite the broadcloth and the bowler hat, I knew him, Touchstone, the wild flower of folly, The whetstone of his age, the scourge of kings, The madcap morning star of elfin-land, Who used to wrap his legs around his neck For warmth on winter nights. He had slipped back, To see what men were doing in a world That should be wiser. He had watched a play, Read several books, heard men discourse of art And life; and he sat bubbling like a spring In Arden. Never did blackbird, drenched with may, Chuckle as Touchstone chuckled on that ride. @3Lord, what a world! Lord, what a mad, mad world!@1 Then, to the jolt and jingle of the engine, He burst into this bunch of mad-cap rhymes: -- | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SHAPE OF THE CORONER by WALLACE STEVENS THE EVENING WIND by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT AN INTERNATIONAL EPISODE (1889) by CAROLINE KING DUER SONG FOR ALL SEAS, ALL SHIPS by WALT WHITMAN LEGENDARY LIGHTS by ALTER ABELSON THE IMAGE OF GOD by FRANCISCO DE ALDANA STARRY NIGHT by KENNETH SLADE ALLING MERCURY; ON LOSING MY POCKET MILTON AT LUSS NEAR BEN LOMOND by ROBERT ANDREWS |