(no subject)
TO THE HESITATING READER
(Thank You Robert Louis Stevenson):
If dreamers’ poems to poets’ prose,
The truest pretense, the heat and cold,
From the closest account of sand in your toes,
To the unforgivable, far-fetched road,
And all the old romance retold
(Meandering from the ancient way),
Can please, as me they pleased of old,
A handful of those who live today:
So be it, and fall on! If not,
If eyes quick shift to a true-tried list
And every word that’s read forgot,
Then keep in mind, no I insist,
The knowledge that I’ll be not pissed.
Says I: So be it! And may I
And all my poets be not missed,
For we, in our creations, lie.
(Thank You Robert Louis Stevenson):
If dreamers’ poems to poets’ prose,
The truest pretense, the heat and cold,
From the closest account of sand in your toes,
To the unforgivable, far-fetched road,
And all the old romance retold
(Meandering from the ancient way),
Can please, as me they pleased of old,
A handful of those who live today:
So be it, and fall on! If not,
If eyes quick shift to a true-tried list
And every word that’s read forgot,
Then keep in mind, no I insist,
The knowledge that I’ll be not pissed.
Says I: So be it! And may I
And all my poets be not missed,
For we, in our creations, lie.