Sharp-eyed readers will notice that I actually have used the verse form of Spenser's Epithalamion, not his Faerie Queen.
And allegories, frankly, leave me cold.
Your verse is splendid, as so many said,
But I've no use for language falsely old.
I count each line; and none is written wrong,
Yet cringe. Your tales are long
Moreover, I've no use for royalty
(My own realm headed that way as I rhyme).
I won't say merit means a lot to me,
A little more than some son, who says God
Prefers a king who's odd.
And you, you snot, were evil to the micks.
You starved them and sought to cut out their tongues,
An early convert to that school of pricks,
Which slew and slaved the darkies, yet, somehow,
Are bossed by Pakis now.
You were, then, one more bigot, worth a curse,
If you had not elevated English verse.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 53 times
Written on 2015-03-05 at 00:07
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To the Faerie King
I'm sixty-one, too weak to ape you, Ed,And allegories, frankly, leave me cold.
Your verse is splendid, as so many said,
But I've no use for language falsely old.
I count each line; and none is written wrong,
Yet cringe. Your tales are long
Moreover, I've no use for royalty
(My own realm headed that way as I rhyme).
I won't say merit means a lot to me,
A little more than some son, who says God
Prefers a king who's odd.
And you, you snot, were evil to the micks.
You starved them and sought to cut out their tongues,
An early convert to that school of pricks,
Which slew and slaved the darkies, yet, somehow,
Are bossed by Pakis now.
You were, then, one more bigot, worth a curse,
If you had not elevated English verse.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 53 times
Written on 2015-03-05 at 00:07
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
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