Poetry and Prose
December 3, 2015
Trisha Basak
Joyce, you speak?
Shelley is infinitesimal
Blake, In Rockland
And Milton too, to the grave
There I find
Browning and Browning, hand in hand
Happily but speaking to a neighboring
Eliot, who smiles like a sun
To a broken e.e, coming?
Oh Lord! Lord Tennyson
He dueled and killed that Byron
And sorely listened to those chains
That bound Keats and Yeats too
Wordsworth broke the poetic poetry
And Hardy salvaged and swooned too
They all told Coleridge in delicate whispers
How Whitman and Burns and
Language grew
Joyce, did you hear?
The bones breaking in Shakespeare’s tune
Wisdom waking and the all the world shaking
What here transpired- adieu, adieu