I would like to share another poem. Miniver Cheevy was written by an American poet named Edwin Arlington Robinson. I guess that I can relate to the character of Miniver Cheevy in some way (not the alcoholic part) because I also long to go back to the past when life was different. Ah, my longing for time travel appears again…well, on a “professional” note, I will publish my 38th article today on the Examiner! 🙂
by Edwin Robinson
Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn;
Grew lean while he assailed the seasons:
He wept that he was ever born,
And he had reasons.
Miniver loved the days of old
When swords were bright and steeds were prancing;
The vision of a warrior bold
Would set him dancing.
Miniver sighed for what was not,
And dreamed, and rested from his labors;
He dreamed of Thebes and Camelot,
And Priam’s neighbors.
Miniver mourned the ripe renown
That made so many a name so fragrant;
He mourned Romance, now on the town,
And Art, a vagrant.
Miniver loved the Medici,
Albeit he had never seen one;
He would have sinned incessantly
Could he have been one.
Miniver cursed the commonplace
And eyed a khaki suit with loathing;
He missed the medieval grace
Of iron clothing.
Miniver scorned the gold he sought,
But sore annoyed was he without it;
Miniver thought, and thought, and thought
And thought about it.
Miniver Cheevy, born too late,
Scratched his head and kept on thinking;
Miniver coughed, and called it fate,
And kept on drinking.