Posted on Saturday, 5 January 2002
Author's Note: This was inspired by reading that the Poet Laureate of the US just happens to be named Billy Collins.
I mentioned it in Chat and this resulted:
By Billy Collins
Such wit, such flair, and remark'd grace
Are rarely found in just one place.
With wisdom great and opinions fair
Does she opine from rosy lair.
She gives advice and tends to all.
The world accedes her beck and call.
She opines, and thus we learn ourselves
To put in closets fresh new shelves.
Kindly, she condescends to live amongst
Those who do so love her most,
And who can give such ample praise
In hopes of getting a big fat raise.
On marriage, servants, music and taste
Not a breath she breathes does go to waste,
And we below must wonder long
How do we bear to listen on?
But listen we do and listen we must.
For the Great Catherine holds our trust,
And from that purse we get our pay
To bow and scrape then sigh away.
Poor Anne, I do confess I fear,
Will wither further, and with tear
She shall depart this earthly space--
Safe from mother's too-firm embrace.
Dear Longbourn how I long for thee.
For there I shall at last be free.
Free to eat, or free to rest,
Free to be my worst, or best.
No longer servant, but Master great,
Once I obtain my own estate.
I shall require and I shall command,
Then all shall accede to my demand.
How wonderful it shall be that day!
When no wise Lady has her say.
Finally, Great Collins will have his own--
Safe and quiet in his very home.
Together, Mrs. C and Olive Branch
All encompassed on my ranch.
I'll preach no more, but sing and play,
With banish'd Rosings far away.
Then good-bye I'll say to seeming-queen,
And playing sorrow shall I deem--
For wisdom does so rule my breast,
Though in my mind 'tis all a jest.
Yet, to her I'm bound until that day,
When cousin Bennet passes away.
Sad as that for some may be,
Joy can it only bring to me.