[Jan D. Hodge]

Hi. I'm brand new to this site, and this will be my very first post. But I couldn't resist joining in the fun and applause (especially for that marvellous reworking of Yeats's foul rag-and-bone shop).

Herewith my villanelle of sorts:


Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Such is a favorite sport of amorous men.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May

or Alice or Cassandra . . . Who am I to say
what might be witnessed by the hidden wren?
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day

and say that thou art temperate? No way!
Far better you were hot as Gwendolyn
when rough winds shake the darling buds of May

. . . or Julie . . . and we are tumbling in the hay.
In such a way again and yet again
would I compare thee to a summer's day,

or better, teach the bees themselves to play.
When we in splendid chorus breathe: Amen!
rough winds will shake, the darling buds of May

will blush a deeper red, the thrush essay
a song unheard before. Then, darling, then
I'll have compared thee to a summer's day.
Let rough winds shake those darling buds of May.


Jan