Poirot posted the magnificent 'Ozymandias' building up to that wondrous last line: "The lone and level sands stretch far away." Desolation in one and two syllable words. Did Shelley just write it down or did he work it over and over for months to get it right?

In the old vaudeville days I remember Ted Lewis on stage in an old battered hat and a whiskey reddened face singing "Me and My Shadow". At the lines:

And when it`s twelve o`clock,
We climb the stair,
We never knock,
For nobody`s there

He would be the image of desolation.

However, the meaning of words change. We read current meanings into a poem written at another time. eg. "The hand that mockt them and the heart that fed:" Shelley probably meant by mockt 'to have depicted accurately.'

One line I love is "He missed the mediæval grace of iron clothing." It's from another poem of one who felt he was mislocated in time and place. maybe we all are.

Miniver Cheevy
by Edwin Arlington Robinson

Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn,
Grew lean while he assailed the seasons;
He wept that he was ever born,
And he had reasons.

Miniver loved the days of old
When swords were bright and steeds were prancing;
The vision of a warrior bold
Would set him dancing.

Miniver sighed for what was not,
And dreamed, and rested from his labors;
He dreamed of Thebes and Camelot,
And Priam's neighbors.

Miniver mourned the ripe renown
That made so many a name so fragrant;
He mourned Romance, now on the town,
And Art, a vagrant.

Miniver loved the Medici,
Albeit he had never seen one;
He would have sinned incessantly
Could he have been one.

Miniver cursed the commonplace
And eyed a khaki suit with loathing;
He missed the mediæval grace
Of iron clothing.

Miniver scorned the gold he sought
But sore annoyed was he without it;
Miniver thought, and thought, and thought,
And thought about it.

Miniver Cheevy, born too late,
Scratched his head and kept on thinking;
Miniver coughed, and called it fate,
And kept on drinking.

Dear David F.,

You make my spirit soar.
Thank You!

Dear Foxy,

Touched you on a soar spot?

Dear Foxy and David,
perhaps you two should get a motel room? There's a certain poetic licence about monogamy you know! :-)

Foxy
Here is a poem just posted on Jessica Watson's blog. Considering you have commented abou her and your love of poetry, it may be of interest.

Arriving Here from Here

So there it is that shining dome, atop yon white light tower
I saw it only months before, a lighthouse stemlike flower
It beckoned me to stay behind, not take to distant ocean
My destiny was written then, that siren’s power broken

I sailed off with cliffs astern, set course way out for here
So many months have disappeared, so many showed they care
For young as I such tender years, portrayed to one and all
An Inner longing deep within, answering primordial call

As rocky portal flanks both sides, flotilla widely spread
I think of miles beneath my feet, across pink deck I’ve tread
From rattlings hold I wave to all, no one particularly
For port and starb’d, stern to bow, the crowds another sea

The tears are joy and sadness too, emotions on the flow
This trip is done, the miles complete, I’m back and I’m on show
I will not say it wasn’t hard, a task sometimes so great
Success was something meant for me, by sailing to my fate

If dreams are made to let us live, with hope and wondrous thought
Each of us can only try, to honour those dream we’ve caught
For me I’m home a new girl born, through happiness and fear
Most of all, my dream came true, “by setting out for here”

Brumbyy

Foxy,
To give the poster full credit, I must show (I think) her other comments. Sadly I do not know who the person is. I particularly like the last two sentences.

Quote Brumbyy:-
No poem for the last Jessica, just a wish God blesses your future, for all the joy you’ve given thousands with your brave exploits and the closeness you’ve delivered to the globe through your followers. Other have done it before you, others are doing it as you finish, and still others will do it long after, but there is only one Jessica Watson who has done it in such style.

I thank you for the opportunity to not just write poetry as you travelled, but to see your adventure through so many eyes and minds. If we could just harness one dram of your tenacity, one dram of your sense of purpose, one dram of your spirit, pride and determination, and infuse this into our leaders, this country, this world would, be even a better place than that which you by your presence and daring exploit, has left it.

In too short of time, you may move from within the light, but to so many lives, young and old alike, your light, will bathe so many long into the future.

Jessica, may only fortune smile your way.

Brumbyy