Poetry

Poet of the Fall Upon the rows of Pandemonium I look, and see my former general Charming the masses; tongue like opium, And eyes the shards of rusted mineral. Around me air like chalk is dusted ove…

After Some Lines in Keats’ Lamia How poets must be mad to trace the line Of woman, whomsoever holds their liking, To faeries’ influence, wishes o’er wine, Or beauties gods spawned, mothers just as striking. They sip the stuff of dreams, if dreams are dark Which nature folds on mysteries she keeps: T…

Sonnet, after Shakespeare’s Fifty-Fifth Not copper, touched by sea, how time will coat, Nor prince at play, his folly fresh in mind, Will subjects be when verses care to dote On each aspect of you …