Selected Poems

“We love the people, sir.” You do?

You ought to; nay, indeed, you must:

Shouting their needs has brought a new Elation to your tickle dust.

You have the keys of all their hearts, Yet neither charity, good sense Nor truth, nor tolerance imparts

One sparklet to your eloquence.

You prey, but not like beasts of prey; The cobblers fly too far to be Your emblem; in a higgling way

You have a place in history;

Like blackbirds in their shiny coats Prinking and lifting spry, proud feet Bickering and picking sodden oats

From horses’ offal in the street.