When Poets suffer long from lack of vogue They give their verses to some kindred rogue. Thus, versifying Ancient, lo, we come With odes in box close packed like figs in drum! Accept the same! for mutual admiration Has often been the making of a nation! We came here in a motor greatly crowded— This part of our proceedings must stay shrouded, But had our motor been to atoms dashed, Then had old England's Helicon been squashed Flat, for the bardic throng had been abated By loss of the Non-paid and Underrated None had remained save Watson, Binyon, Bridges, To climb the poor old mountain's tumbled ridges, While Phillips, cup in hand, had sat close by Penning on half our kind an Elegy! @3Jan 16@1 Of Yeats, they say, some vertebrae were found, Of Masefield half the scalp, the cheek of Pound, The tooth of Flint, the stomach, I feel sure, Of that tremendous fellow Sturgius Moore And of the scintillating brain of Plarr The centre that resembled a bright star! This happened on the journey back to London When we and all our hopes were wholly undone, And all the glories of achievement rash Were clouded in the memorable smash! @3Jan 18@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MEN AND BOYS by KARL THEODORE KORNER PRO PATRIA MORI by THOMAS MOORE THERE WAS A CHILD WENT FORTH by WALT WHITMAN TO CHLOE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS TWILIGHT SYMPHONY by LESLIE ANDERSON IN UTRUMQUE PARATUS by MATTHEW ARNOLD |