Miniver Cheevy, and a Reply

[jenny_islander]

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 medieval 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.


LORD MINIVER OF CHEEVY
by Lady Gwen Seis, Principality of Oertha

Miniver Cheevy sobered up
And joined AA and met his neighbors;
Drank patience from a coffee cup,
Found harder labors.

Miniver took to walking then
From street to street, and blankly thinking
Of what to do on weekends when
He wasn't drinking.

Miniver found a little park
Where he had sat with many a vagrant;
The poplars murmured in the dark,
The air was fragrant.

Miniver saw a Medici
So close he heard his doublet swishing;
Miniver thought he'd finally
Gone mad from wishing.

Miniver walked behind the man
Through doors of steel, o'er floors of plastic;
He paid his fee and came upon
A sight fantastic.

Miniver found a tunic and
A hood with tassels gaily proffered;
Miniver found a maiden's hand
In dancing offered.

Miniver learned to bow and fight
And dance a bransle and sing in Latin;
Miniver saw with double sight
Each hall he sat in.

Miniver had a meeting in
The local parish hall on Sunday;
In other garb he came again
To strive on Monday.

Miniver never struck it rich,
But when he heard the armor rattle
Or when he felt the drinking-itch,
He went to battle.

Miniver fell and got back up
And what he thought, his hands could fashion;
Miniver lost his easy cup
And found his passion.