“I’ve had more than enough
of Macduff,”
saith
Macbeth.
Three evenings of ‘All Passion
Spent’ -
dear Vita, it was heaven sent;
such a relief from current tele
dope,
American ‘soap’.
When Dallas palls upon the tele
‘soap’-writers could consider
Shelley:
Harriet plunged in the Serpentine
and Mary dreamed up
Frankenstein...
It’s odd to think that Shelley
had never seen a welly;
in Ode to West Wind weather
he squelched about in leather...
Percy Bysshe was quite an amazing
bloke;
seven languages he spoke.
Do you think he spluttered out
‘buon giorno’
when returning from Livorno?
(December,
1986)
