I love him with the kind self love
That makes you love Pierre; King George;
Henry St John, Lord Bolingbroke;
I love where Willy Yeats fucks up.
Yellow Christmas a time ago
This man, of men, my sympathy’s
Chief holder, in Mummy’s ex-street,
Met Oscar, and was shone on, just like us,
Stammered and glowered and told Cyril stories.
Two men who saved their stock against the tide,
But Wilde? What could fat Oscar have thought?
Seeing a countryman who couldn’t work
A room, but breathed the truth,
If rarely spoke it.
No comments:
Post a Comment