May odes, epistles to the hills and fields,
Wordsworthian trifles lauding daffodils,
acquire innocuous irrelevance.
Have done with Keatsian honeyed indolence,
all naive praise of lethargy that limps
in panting languor under Helicon.
Give out, faint reverence of roses, rapt
applause for passive habitants of gardens.
Beauty is everywhere in evidence
and may by any eye be wondered at,
an easy loveliness, substantial grace
that leans amenably and comes to hand;
and yet in blindness Homer sang, whose eyes
were far too keen to tarry on a rose
or any bagatelle in wilderness.
Illustrious legend, cast your towering shade
from the Idaean mount and dignify
myopic poets who in dalliance dote
on dew-drops, deafened by the pipes of peace.
Wordsworthian trifles lauding daffodils,
acquire innocuous irrelevance.
Have done with Keatsian honeyed indolence,
all naive praise of lethargy that limps
in panting languor under Helicon.
Give out, faint reverence of roses, rapt
applause for passive habitants of gardens.
Beauty is everywhere in evidence
and may by any eye be wondered at,
an easy loveliness, substantial grace
that leans amenably and comes to hand;
and yet in blindness Homer sang, whose eyes
were far too keen to tarry on a rose
or any bagatelle in wilderness.
Illustrious legend, cast your towering shade
from the Idaean mount and dignify
myopic poets who in dalliance dote
on dew-drops, deafened by the pipes of peace.
