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05-02-2018, 03:29 PM
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Join Date: Mar 2017
Location: TX
Posts: 6,630
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Anne, this is a tremendous sentence and should feature in any Romantic biography: "He published the former and re-buried the latter."
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05-03-2018, 02:54 AM
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Join Date: Feb 2009
Location: Old South Wales (UK)
Posts: 6,685
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If I were to use it in such a context it would require a footnote. He didn't do the digging himself and did not even attend the ghastly procedure, which was organised by one Charles Augustus Howell (known as "Owl" because one of the other muses had a cockney accent, which amused the Brotherhood no end).
It was Howell who started the story that her corpse was undecayed and that her glorious red hair (under which DGR had tucked his notebook) had continued to grow until it filled the coffin. Thus the poet could continue to believe in the permanence of his Beata Beatrix. The actual condition of the book belied the pretty notion, as not only had the worms had a good go at it, it had been treated with disinfectant at the graveside by a Dr. Llewellyn Williams who had been instructed to do this "if necessary".
Times have changed since then. I married my partner in the Intensive Care ward of our local hospital and the Chief Registrar conducted the ceremony complete with rubber gloves and the actual Register of the County of Monmouth. Since my new husband had picked up Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus Aureus in the course of his treatment, the chief witness (Senior Anaesthetist) had to spray the book as it left the ward...
(Shut up, Annie...)
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05-03-2018, 04:03 AM
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Join Date: Mar 2017
Location: TX
Posts: 6,630
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My goodness! I guess those were the days of Burke and Hare.
Staph infections are no fun. But it's not every day one gets married in the Intensive Care ward, complete with rubber gloves. I was married at -10 Fahrenheit, and my oldest sister drove to the wedding an hour over ice, from Indianapolis (or rather, my nephew did).
John
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05-05-2018, 03:34 PM
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Member
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Join Date: Oct 2000
Location: Los Angeles, CA
Posts: 6,766
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More under construction:
William Carlos Williams
It all depended
from
a red-clotted
brain
in thrombosis
sleep
and I remain
there.
Stephen Crane
I said to the Universe,
"Sir, I survive!"
The Universe replied,
"Not with TB!"
T.S. Eliot
Those wasted lands, US and England
(Both my starts and terminations,
Like Four Quartets the sprout and seed)
Wasted my breath with COPD.
E.A. Robinson
I often swiped my pen at Tilbury Town
To sketch its weak, corrupt morality,
Earning the town poetical renown,
But its toxicity inflamed my C.
__________________
Ralph
Last edited by RCL; 05-16-2018 at 12:46 PM.
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05-24-2018, 06:09 AM
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Member
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Join Date: Aug 2012
Location: Fife
Posts: 729
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Sir John Betjeman
Oh! If you would remember me with praise
Then by public subscription kindly raise
A church with stained-glass triptych at the back:
Of Parkinson's, stroke, and (last) heart attack.
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05-24-2018, 10:46 AM
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Member
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Join Date: Apr 2012
Location: Paris, France
Posts: 5,399
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For myself
He always would procrastinate;
That's why, as usual, he is late.
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05-24-2018, 03:39 PM
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New Member
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Join Date: May 2018
Location: Birmingham, Alabama
Posts: 4
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It seems appropriate, if not required, to include Edgar Lee Masters in a thread about poetic epitaphs.
The hill above the Spoon holds many of these
imagined back when I could not conceive
my own demise so easily foretold.
I lost my own last lines as I grew old.
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