Stuart Leichter <
leichtes@bellsouth.net> posted:
in article dt39st01b3c@drn.newsguy.com, Karla at karlark@sbcglobal.net wrote on 2/16/06 8:46 PM:
In this little urn is laid
Prudence Baldwin, once my maid,
From whose happy spark here let
Spring the purple violet.
Robert Herrick
The same dead white Europeon guy:
THE ARGUMENT OF HIS BOOK.
by Robert Herrick
I SING of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers,
Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers;
I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes,
Of bridegrooms, brides and of their bridal-cakes;
I write of youth, of love, and have access
By these to sing of cleanly wantonness;
I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by piece
Of balm, of oil, of spice and ambergris;
I sing of times trans-shifting, and I write
How roses first came red and lilies white;
I write of groves, of twilights, and I sing
The court of Mab, and of the fairy king;
I write of Hell ; I sing (and ever shall)
Of Heaven, and hope to have it after all.
----
Today's observation included 3 generations. The kid, maybe 7, is clumping in contractor's boots or hiphop ones, and a logo seal jacket he won't fill out in 7 more years, and his head is bald naked.
GRANDMA: Come over here. Come on.
KID: (turns, walks back to GRANDMA)
GRANDMA: Where did you get those boots?
KID: Hnh??
GRANDMA: Where'd you get them boots?
KID: I don't know (not dunno), my Daddy got them for me.
Stuart
Stuart Leichter was one of the better poets here 20 years ago.
While this isn't one of his better works, it's still worth a read.
Thanks for bumping this thread, MummyChunk.
--
Poetry and songs of Will Dockery:
https://www.reverbnation.com/willdockery
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