To the dead man I love

Soon I will pass Auberon Waugh
En route to the stark calling point
The make or break of William Yeats,
Delay and worship of the cruel,
The pity of Miss Florence Farr,
Olivia unrecognised
(For love ain’t letters)

– lack of fruit
In cruelty’s chase, then, schadenfraud,
Your life vested in John MacBride;
Relish each drunk spat frown and kick,
Get hold of history’s verdict,
Get Maud in France (so by the by
And fly-by) and Iseult –

Named for Blanchemains? The stand-in, yes,
So much for “natural declension
Of the soul”. But you you saved,
Razed down Responsibilities,
Workmanlike gentle double helix,
Through compromise and fudge.