As a new standup comic on the stag
Whose never-tested japeries fall fat,
And facing down the hostile masses’ rag
Must tap reserves of courage in his hat-
So I, when looking down this rocky rod
I took not knowing what would lie ahad,
Must persevere, though failure bumps forebod,
And hope the hindrances won’t be widesprad.
So when at night one wakens from one’s slee
To find in mind poor Wordsworth’s lonely clod
The joke may be considered somewhat chea
But precious if it makes one laugh alod.
Instead of feeling funerals in my brin
Some silly found me worthy and did dign.
Shakespeare, Sonnet XXIII
Wordsworth, “I wandered lonely as a cloud”
Dickinson, “I felt a Funeral, in my Brain”
Lysaght, The Penalty of Love
I felt a funeral in my bran
I heard a bee buzz when I did
I shall not live in van
When daisies pid and violets ble
Whose woods these are I think I know/his hose is in the village though.
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