I am not of those miserable males
Who sniff at vice, and, daring not to snap,
Do therefore hope for heaven. I take the hap
Of all my deeds. The wind that fills my sails,
Propels; but I am helmsman. Am I wrecked,
I know the devil has sufficient weight
To bear: I lay it not on him, or fate.
Besides, he's damned. That man I do suspect
A coward, who would burden the poor deuce
With what ensues from his own slipperiness.
I have just found a wanton-scented tress
In an old desk, dusty for lack of use.
Of days and nights it is demonstrative,
That, like some aged star, gleam luridly.
If for those times I must ask charity,
Have I not any charity to give?
This poem was written by
1) Robert Lowell on the subject of Lyndon B. Johnson
2) George Meredith in Modern Love
3) Meredith Wilson in The Music Man
4) Meredith Vieira in Thoroughly Modern Millie
5) George Sherbet during World War I
The picture on top, "The Death of Chatteron," is a big clue, but not because of the poet named in the title.
2 Meredith
Posted by: Charles | March 23, 2021 at 11:15 AM