Tim,
Here's my first fling. I'll be back with contrasted rhyme endings later,
Janet
Vicarious
The eye of Proust is keen
for details that evoke
the essence of a scene.
Dickens with a stroke
sketches in the group
with misery and smoke.
Austen will not stoop
to passion in the skin
but stays within the loop.
Boccaccio laughs at sin,
particularly vice
that leaves us with a grin.
Flaubert isn’t nice
about hypocrisy,
but hellishly precise.
Shakespeare feels quite free
to sympathise with flaws
that drive humanity.
Dante judges whores,
adulterers and cheats,
whose morals he deplores.
Rushdie gaily beats
the drum for open speech
then hastily retreats.
Writers offer each
of us a chance to live
while staying out of reach.
May all of them forgive
the less inquisitive.
(for Robert. I was just Danteing along and along and along 
[This message has been edited by Janet Kenny (edited May 22, 2004).]