mjj (flemmings) wrote,

So there's this odd poem, that I probably found in Walter de la Mare's Come Hither, which is itself an odd book, called From the Day-book of a Forgotten Prince. That link takes you to the poem as I remember it. But someone has it archived with a bunch of Jean Starr Untermeyer's other poems, and there I find the following variant reading:
He roars out a song in a voice that is sweet--
Of grandeur that's gone, rare viands to eat,
And treasure that used to be laid at his feet.

He picks up his phone, faded, wrinkled and torn,
Though banded in ermine, moth-eaten and worn,
And held at the throat by a twisted old thorn.
I wonder how that happened?
Tags: verse

  • (no subject)

    Dank, grey, chill not cold. At least I got my Asia-going cards mailed. Since four weeks isn't nearly long enough in these latter days, they must be…

  • That's a new one

    Last night's frustration dream was having an erotic scenario sabotaged because the dream protagonist, of uncertain sex, was unable to find batteries…

  • (no subject)

    Dear God but Piranesi is oogey-making reading. Like a bad dream or the faintest recollection of something else I read somewhere else but can't trace.…

  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded