Monday, March 21, 2016

Just because ...

The Pillar Box

A stranger garbed outlandishly
Came to our town beside the sea
“In mine own city” thus he said—
“There stands a little man in red
Who in the steep street standeth still
And morn and even eats his fill
Of tales untold, wild truths and lies
Small wars and secret chivalries
You may walk round him as may be
He guards his secrets soldierly—
A quaint red tower not three feet wide
And chased the liar with a crowd
And thousands of men's souls inside.”

Some, hearing mocked the tale aloud
Some smote and scattered cruelly
His blood upon the stones, but he
Still wore his happy sunset smile
Till after rambling many a mile
He met a man beside the sea
Who answered very quietly
“A common pillar-box: accord
I ready credence” at that word
The gentle stranger frail of limb
In still scorn laid a hand on him
With eyes that blazed like magic stones
And shook him like a bag of bones.

. . . I found a snippet of this poem while reading a post here and had to track down the entire poem.  I love the lyrical cadence and flow, the imagery, and simple classical style. It's a refreshing change to the in-your-face, blunt, stark, dystopia that I seem to be reading these days (not to mention the dire state of political discourse of our neighbours to the south, but I digress).- EL  

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