[Petra Norr]

.
How pleasant to know the old Wordsworth
who has put on some weight but is spry.
He’s constantly patting his ample girth:
he calls it his ‘happy shepherd’s pie!’

He dresses in clothes that are yellow,
maintaining it gives him such thrills
to flutter about in a colour as mellow
as those of his cherished daffodils.

He reclines in Dove Cottage at night
writing odes on a couch that is shabby
but he always says, to his wife’s great fright,
that he’s sitting by Tintern Abbey.

Much later when he’s feeling goosy
he cuddles his wife in their berth,
and makes the mistake of calling her Lucy –
how pleasant to know the old Wordsworth!
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