Sunday, March 23, 2014


O Scamander! I’ve heard it said
Your waters once ran thick and red
With blood of heroes newly dead
(Hurrah for heroes safely dead!)

And by your waters grim and gory
Great Homer came and made a story
That gave you everlasting glory
(What is life without some glory?)

Trust old Homer as a guide; he’s
One of those who comes and tidies
Deeds of the fierce Hellenides
(Long gone now, the Hellenides)

No echoes of the warhorn’s blast
Disturbs the shadows of the past
A blind man knows the way at last.
(Oh blind man, lead us home at last!)

By the tingling of my fingers
Something comes and glumly lingers

By the itching of my knee
It wisheth much to speak with me

By the tickling of my nose
It speaketh in a sort of prose

By my eyes which seem to glisten
I will not for a moment listen

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