poetry from the antarctic
Showing posts with label
A Victorian Value
.
Show all posts
Showing posts with label
A Victorian Value
.
Show all posts
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Dickens was dead: to begin with.
And social necessity rotted
in the neighbouring plot.
Poets’ corner was best ways
more crowded, yet no candle
burned, or heart held vigil.
Older Posts
Home
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)