名人诗歌|The Poet of Bray

Back in the dear old thirties' days

When politics was passion

A harmless left-wing bard^{1 was I}

And so I grew in fashion：

Although I never really joined

The Party of the Masses

I was most awfully^{2 chummy with}

The Proletarian classes.

This is the course I'll always steer³

Until the stars grow dim， sir

That howsoever taste may veer⁴

I'll be in the swim， sir.

But as the tide of war swept on

I turned Apocalyptic^5：

With symbol， myth and archetype

My verse grew crammed^{6 and cryptic7：}

With New Romantic zeal^{8 I swore}

That Auden was a fake， sir，

And found the mind of Nicky Moore

More int'resting than Blake， sir.

White Hor百度竞价推广en down New Roads had run

But taste required improvement：

I turned to greet the rising sun

And so I joined the Movement！

Glittering and ambiguous

In villanelles I sported：

With Dr. Leavis I concurred^9，

And when he sneezed I snorted.

But seeing that even John Wax might wane¹⁰

I left that one-way street， sir；

I modified my style again，

And now I am a Beat， sir：

So very beat， my soul is beat

Into a formless jelly：

I set my verses now to jazz

And read them on the telly.

Perpetual non-conformist I

And that's the way I'm staying

The angriest young man alive

（Although my hair is greying）

And in my rage I'll not relent

No， not one single minute

Against the base Establishment

（Until， of course， I'm in it）。

This is the course I'll always steer

Until the stars grow dim， sir

That howsoever taste may veer

I'll be in the swim， sir.