Originally Posted by Roger Slater (Post 101672)

MY BACK PAGES

I always thought, when I was young,
that age was just a song that's sung,
a ship that's sailed, a door that's closed,
a cat-less bag, a verse that's prosed,
a denoument, a curtain drawn,
a sad farewell before we're gone,
disgruntled, angry, scared and bitter.
But now that I'm old, I'll reconsider.

Originally Posted by John Whitworth (Post 101592)

It's a bit late in this thread tobe bringing up a question about what bad really means, but nevertheless I do. Are we talking about McGonagall here, incompetence raised to the nth degree, the sort of thing I come across often enough among my students, scansion awry etc etc, or are we talking about Richard Crashaw, where a considerable degree of skill is involved in producing something truly dire, as in the famous couplet about crying eyes:

Two walking baths, two weeping motions,
Portable and compendious oceans

It taakes a whole history of art to produce the latter. I must say I have always thought Pound's Hugh Selwyn Mauberley to be a winning example of Crashaw-ism, but I know some people like it, just as some people like the paintings of Jackson Pollock. There's nowt so queer as folk. Sam seems to me to be producing mock McGonagalls with considerable art. Here's something of mine constructed by cutting up an advertisement. Is it bad? I hope so but it took quite a lot of trouble.

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Originally Posted by Roger Slater (Post 101699)

What are you talking about? I met Cantor. He's what? 27? Maybe 32, tops?