Cottage Song - Parody John Drinkwater, Max Beerbohm Cottage Song

Morning and night I search
a song-bird on its perch,
try through the smog at noon
to tell March night from June, -
yet where the shadows fall
there’s little hope at all!

My garden flowers bright
have been destroyed by blight,
fumes through closed curtains seep
dioxide during sleep,
while up polluted streams
an oil-caked cob swan preens.

My path of pavings grey
is fogbound night and day,
bars fellowship, for grime
bids one with candles climb
the stairs once whitewashed where
grew perfumed lavender...

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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