A Fragment
When barely past sixteen
Summers, more burnished by fancies
Than the Judgmental Sun;
Vain hopes found in my heart
Sweet repose and, for the love of fame
I coined my romantic pose
As Byron would have.
(But the class thing
In his day carried the day)
Ah, his neat turn of phrase
Made him an Immortal.
His Childe Harold I read by Rhone…
benny
posted by benny @ 2:43 PM
2 Comments:
First part of this strikes me as being excellent.
Incidentally the composer Berlioz set Childe Herod I seem to remember.
By the time I came to a pun by Rhone I gave up.
A poem with more than one pun is dead. Thanks Rob.
benny
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