A Lesson From Wordsworth
I am implored to tell I am spellbound
By the way Wordsworth wrote his verse
And then appealed to our better nature
To forgive his errant words.
I am loathe to admit I recognise,
That to have one's cake and eat it
Will always be the poet’s desire;
Akin to sketching the landscape
And leaving out a single tree,
Then waxing lyrically,
In a preface,
About how its boughs did not sit
He must have felt
A high sense of responsibility
Not to be caught
Drinking from the bottle,
Or eating with his fingers
Or with his pants around his knees.
It would have been a laborious chore
To plug all perceivable holes,
To satisfy the reader, halt the detractors
When his very soul they did deplore.
But I do believe,
In this modern throng,
For everyman to do the same
Would not be wrong.
For everyman has no time to spare,
To justify his words,
To be self aware.
But maybe all this bullish confidence,
We are encouraged to display,
Does remove all chance of human progress,
With every word we say.