To: Chuzzlewit who wrote (33677 ) 4/4/1999 10:39:00 PM From: E Respond to of 108807
I haven't read Dubliners in years, either, and I can't drink merlot because it gives me a headache, which i really feel bad about, but anyway, if you're feeling reflective, instead of drinking merlot, I shall, typing profligately, treat you to a few of Stevie Smith's strange, dark poems, which is what i was reading and put down to return to the computer, a thing I do an awful lot recently, unfortunately (putting down a book to go to the computer, i mean.): All Things PassAll things pass Love and mankind is grass. The ReasonMy life is vile I hate it so I'll wait awhile And then I'll go. Why wait at all? Hope springs alive, Good may befall I may yet thrive. It is because I can't make up my mind If God is good, impotent or unkind. BereavementMaria Holt Was not the dolt That people thought her. Her face was full Her mind not dull She was my daughter. She had so much to do so very much And used to shuffle round upon a crutch, The younger children always called her mother, And so she was to sister and to brother Poor wretch she's dead and now I am bereft Of 60 pounds each year to fill the place she left I never paid a cent before; it is to bad, It's worse to lose a lass than lose a lad. Death of the Dog BelvoirBelvoir thy coat was not more golden than thy heart That beats no more Now thy fled spirit Delicate and suave Thy virtue's core Above the grave must soar. Alas for baronet bereft Of noble dog and left To bear the mourner's part. Let funeral smart And dirge Be all my song And my song's urge Ding dong. For nobler heart beat never in more noble breast And of beasts best Thou with the least In Death art dresst. Farewell Ding dong Dear dog so ends my song.