1
Half drunk, he recited Longfellow -
There's poetry for you! He went on
To mutter about Owen [ill.]
And "The Long-haired Bohemian"
Who, from what I could gather
Was a remarkable mixture -
Concocted by Commerce synthetically -
Of painter, poet and musician.
Did it seem excentric [sic] of me to feel
Hate oozing? the pimple
That laughed a malignant tumour?
Evil in what seemed quite simple?
Venom! Yet I was glad that I had drawn
This one me, for not I
Was the object, but some spirit
Of unchanging morality
Of which I was the tool -
I idly said:
"The effigy looks authentic"
This drove him mad.
His hair ran down his face,
He screamed a mult -
itude of obscene words
At my "insult"
The face was volatile and there
Was history in that face
Of the unstable bog, the quaking scraw
Of a defeated race.
Then I realised that this race
Had assumed power;
Firbolgs dressed for a festival,
Stormed the ivory tower,
Staggering up to the gods,
Trying to outlaugh the serene
Laugh of the monstrous Apollo -
What can his wild words mean?
