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To an Old-Fashioned Poet
(Lizette Woodworth Reese)
MOST tender poet, when the gods confer
They save your gracile songs a nook apart,
And bless with Time's untainted lavender
The ageless April of your singing heart.
You, in an age unbridled, ne'er declined
The appointed patience that the Muse decrees,
Until, deep in the flower of the mind,
The hovering woods alight, like bridegroom bees.
By casual praise or casual blame unstirred
The placid gods grant gifts where they belong:
To you, who understand, the perfect word,
The recompensed necessities of song.
Christopher Morley
"I'm sorry to write such a long letter, but I didn't have time to write a short one."
-- Pascal
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Anagrams amused the ancient Greeks, Romans and Hebrews, and were popular during the Middle Ages.
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