This place makes me think of poetry and beer. One and the same they are in here. Is there a corner inside for a poet to hide, to pen his best and toss the rest in the fire? Or perhaps a round table where Tennyson sat, demanding to know where his venison's at? Or Chaucer, looking about for a tail, alone with his glass and decanter? And the barmaid Audrey, tart & tawdry, hoping for some wit & banter? It doesn't matter. I'd go just for the idyll.
Monday, August 25, 2008
The Old Poets Corner, Ashover, Derbyshire.
This place makes me think of poetry and beer. One and the same they are in here. Is there a corner inside for a poet to hide, to pen his best and toss the rest in the fire? Or perhaps a round table where Tennyson sat, demanding to know where his venison's at? Or Chaucer, looking about for a tail, alone with his glass and decanter? And the barmaid Audrey, tart & tawdry, hoping for some wit & banter? It doesn't matter. I'd go just for the idyll.
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1 comment:
oh, there just has to be a law - there has to be !
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