Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A GIRTONIAN FUNERAL, by ANONYMOUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A GIRTONIAN FUNERAL, by                    
First Line: Let us begin and portion out these sweets
Last Line: Gen us undying?
Subject(s): "browning, Robert (1812-1889);funerals;poetry & Poets;" Burials


Let us begin and portion out these sweets,
Sitting together.
Leave we our deep debates, our sage conceits, --
Wherefore? and whether?
Thus with a fine that fits the work begun
Our labours crowning,
For we, in sooth, our duty well have done
By Robert Browning.
Have we not wrought at essay and critique,
Scorning supine ease?
Wrestled with clauses crabbed as Bito's Greek,
Baffling as Chinese?
Out the Inn Album's mystic heart we took,
Lucid of soul, and
Threaded the mazes of the Ring and Book;
Cleared up Childe Roland.
We settled Fifine's business -- let her be --
(Strangest of lasses;)
Watched by the hour some thick-veiled truth to see
Where Pippa passes.
(Though, dare we own, secure in victor's gains,
Ample to shield us?
Red Cotton Night-cap Country for our pains
Little would yield us.)
What then to do? Our culture-feast drag out
E'en to satiety?
Oft such the fate that findeth, nothing doubt,
Such a Society.
Oh, the dull meetings! Some one yawns an aye,
One gapes again a yea,
We girls determined not to yawn, but buy
Chocolate Ménier.
Fry's creams are cheap, but Cadbury's excel,
(Quick, Maud, for none wait)
Nay, now, 'tis Ménier bears away the bell,
Sold by the ton-weight.
So, with unburdened brains and spirits light,
Blithe did we troop hence,
All our funds voted for this closing rite, --
Just two-and-two-pence.
Do -- make in scorn, old Croesus, proud and glum,
Peaked eyebrow lift eye;
Put case one stick's a halfpenny; work the sum;
Full two and fifty.
Off with the twine! who scane each smooth brown slab
Yet not supposeth
What soft, sweet, cold, pure whiteness, bound in drab,
Tooth's bite discloseth?
Are they not grand? Why (you may think it odd)
Some power alchemic
Turns, as we munch, to Zeus-assenting nod
Sneers Academic.
Till, when one cries, "Ware hours that fleet like clouds,
Time, deft escaper!'
We answer bold: "Leave Time to Dons and Dowds;
(Grace, pass the paper)
Say, boots it aught to evermore affect
Raptures high-flying?
Though we choose chocolate, will the world suspect
Gen us undying?'





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