Wednesday, January 6, 2016


Matthew Arnold has of late
Been sitting in on my dreams,
Ribbon-bedecked, in the uniform
Of a high ranking officer
In one of the Ignorant Armies.
He rarely speaks; if a player
In that night's dream offers him
A glass of Benedictine or a croissant
He accepts in a quiet voice.
His presence, which he will not explain,
Irks me but I cannot evict him
Since I have made unlicensed use
Of several characters from his poems
And one from his essays. He would do well
Not to press me too far. I too have heard
Confused alarums of struggle and flight.

No comments:

Post a Comment