AN ODE TO OPHELIA

Ophelia liked to sew quilts
replete with wild-flowers
she'd come to know
wandering her father's country estate...
and occasionally even
the quiet but forbidden hills surrounding it

Within her proscribed social circle:
vicars,
young ladies of similar class,
irreproachable old married couples
and cats everywhere,
she was well known
for her kind and bright spirit

She loved to go to church
as the melodious hymns
were a light in her life:
she would often sing them
(note and word perfect)
all alone in her country gardens,
accompanied by the roses and the robins

Well, we all know what became of her,
though there is the question of blame.
was she wronged by father, by brother,
or by lover?
Or was it her punishment for the crime
of relenting to sweetness, nature, and love?

I tell you, Hamlets of today,
think not of Fortinbras
with his boldness, honor, and ambition.
And what would you really gain
by the rule of a marble dungeon?

No, leave the wretched villains and the ghost,
the metaphysics and the churlish priests,
the gold and the counterfeit friends,
and sail in a dragon-boat
to some distant land with sweet Ophelia

Seek out country mountains
abundant with lakes and wildflowers,
supply your table with the beasts of the land
slain by your own hand,
plant a great garden
and weed and tend it

And though your clothes may tatter,
you will not be poor;
though there may be drought
or deluge of rain,
you'll live not in golden chains

And you will love and be loved
by the fair Ophelia