today's poem
I am evidently on a "modern poems about early modern subjects" kick.
Lady Ralegh's Lament
Robert Lowell
1618
Sir Walter, oh, oh, my own Sir Walter --
the sour Tower and the Virgin Queen's garden close
are deflowered and gone now...
Horrible the connoisseur tyrant's querulous strut;
an acorn dances in a girdle of green oak leaves
up the steps to the scaffold to the block,
square bastard of an oak. Clearly, clearly,
the Atlantic whitens to merge Sir Walter's head,
still dangling in its scarlet, tangled twine,
as if beseeching voyage. Voyage?
Down and down; the compass needle dead on terror.
Lady Ralegh's Lament
Robert Lowell
1618
Sir Walter, oh, oh, my own Sir Walter --
the sour Tower and the Virgin Queen's garden close
are deflowered and gone now...
Horrible the connoisseur tyrant's querulous strut;
an acorn dances in a girdle of green oak leaves
up the steps to the scaffold to the block,
square bastard of an oak. Clearly, clearly,
the Atlantic whitens to merge Sir Walter's head,
still dangling in its scarlet, tangled twine,
as if beseeching voyage. Voyage?
Down and down; the compass needle dead on terror.