THEY ask and ask (You say), vulgarians all, Guests (at a price) of that mad, pseudo-squire, If, on the morrow, when You drive your car Into this one-horse town, You hope to call And see your "boy-friend" (me!), to spend the entire Three hours at tea with him, while those who are Brought in by You impatiently prepare To drug their time, in dreadful wantonness, Play 'Bridge', for Britain's sake, in Britain's days of stress. They ask and ask (You say). You waste your breath, I know, in answering the spiritually dead: But, if you think it well to make reply, Tell them that, lest You share their living death— Lest, too, your mind become what theirs is ... lead!— You, who have turned the land and lopped the tree, And done your drab week's work devotedly, Set forth with one fixed purpose: this, to find Food, stay, refreshment, solace for Your starving mind. This said, then say no further. Nor retard Your visit to an elderly Home Guard, Who waits, once more, till you and he, alone, Talk, equal unto equal, speak from throne to throne. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SYNCOPATED CAKEWALK by CLARENCE MAJOR SONNET: 1. THE BRIGHT MOON by CONRAD AIKEN DELUSION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |