VERSES

Evening Star, Issue 22004, 13 April 1935, Page 27

VERSES

MINIVER CHEEVY 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 labours; 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, Add Art, a Vagrant. - 'Miniver lived 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 mediaeval 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. —B. A. Robinson.