Excuse me, Sweetheart, if I smear,
With wisdom learnt from ancient teachers,
Now winter time once more is here,
This grease upon your lengthy features!
Behaving thus, your loyal friend
No whit encourages deception:
Believe me, Fairest, in the end
This oil will better your complexion.
Fairest, believe!
Did you imagine in the bag
To sleep the sleep of Rip Van Winkle,
Removed from sunshine's golden flag
And duller daylight's smallest twinkle?
Well have you earned your rest; but yet,
Although disturbance seem uncivil,
Unless your cheeks and chin be wet
With oil, your beauteousness will shrivel.
Rarest, believe!
Absorb, that, when for our delight
The May unpacks its lovely blossom,
With beaming face, with shoulders bright
You leave the bag's congenial bosom.
Then shall the Lover and his Lass
Walk out toward the pitch together,
And, glorying in the shaven grass,
Tackle, with mutual faith, the leather.
Dearest, absorb!
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Comments
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oops. my friend told me to read this poem, but i didn't realize that she had clicked on old poetry. so sorry, von, to have bothered you, and thank you for your suggestion.
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Norman Gale lived between 1862-1942.
However if you read the poem out loud, each sentence will then flow beautifully and the theme of this lovely poem will soon make itself clear to you. So many people could read this and realise a myriad of different opinions - just enjoy it for what it gives to you personally. In actual fact - he is referring to a Cricket bat
- oiling it to be placed in a bag and stored away over the winter months - read it again and it will be clear to you.
Regards,
~Von~
Edited on Oct 11, 6:23 p.m. because 'added more info'. -
i like your poem a lot. it has a nice lyrical flow and wonderful vocabulary. however, i'm afraid i miss the purpose. enlighten me, please.
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