So much depends upon an ability to distinguish between the virtuous simplicity of Williams and the skimble-skamble showboating of Stevens. "Love calls us to the things of this world," says Richard Wilbur. Might Williams, seen in that light, be wheeling a great love poem in his red barrow? As for the monarch of frozen treats, here's a bit of rudeness that I published a while ago.
THE EMPEROR OF BIRTHDAY CAKE
Call the plump, periphrastic one,
The insurance executive,
The poet as the letter P,
Roller of big cigars as the letter C.
Let be be befuddled by fake,
The only emperor is the emperor of birthday cake.
Bid him whip curdled words for philosophy soufflé,
Purvey 10¢ ideas in $12 packages,
Author of “Thirteen Ways
Of Saying Give Me a Break.”
The only emperor is the emperor of birthday cake.
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