Tuesday, September 6, 2011

A Pome Wot Oi Rote

What a hoot!
Paul Barford, burning bright,
In the woodlands of the night,
Machine in hand, and digging deep,
Excited by a bleep , bleep ,bleep,
It seems to me that a dunderhead detectorist must have come across Blake's "Tyger" at school but only managed to commit to memory the first line. He also missed the lesson on metre and register. Less frequently anthologised by English reading book authors is Blake's, The Voice of the Ancient Bard, from the same Songs of Experience - 1794, in which he writes:

Folly is an endless maze;
Tangled roots perplex her ways;
How many have fallen there!

Which seems quite an apposite comment on lowbrow artefacthuntual puerility.
Vignette: Tyger

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